


Life Anew

by Keitmeg



Series: Futansy [2]
Category: Hellsing
Genre: Car Sex, Case Fic, Eventual Romance, First Time, Futanari, Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Identity Reveal, Knotting, Magic, Magical Tattoos, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Office Blow Jobs, Other, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Secret Relationship, Shameless Smut, Shower Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Voyeurism, Werewolf Turning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2019-07-05 00:58:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 61,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15852975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keitmeg/pseuds/Keitmeg
Summary: [Name] gets a job at the Hellsing manor, but more than an income, she wants the owner's attention. She gets more than that.





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

The oath wasn’t made until she’d heard of what magic can do to power-hungry scumbags; the destruction that had followed and the innocents that had gotten smack right in the middle of it in the past… the oath wasn’t sworn upon until she had read about it all from their ancestors left. There was nothing left as all was swept under the shadows of the angry past, to be forgotten.

To lock her powers, a seal was embedded to her body and then she swore: she would never resort to her magic, never use it to or for anyone, herself included. She needed to forge her way in this world, find herself and protect the ones like her. The ones who are misunderstood, cast away, or even maltreated.

The ones like her weren’t monsters, even if they were feared. The ones like her only wished to live under the beaming sun, under the light…

 

It was sailing smoothly, her in a small city, switching from jobs after graduating; until the disturbance happened. There was a vampire attack near the apartment building she was sheltered in, and she'd watched from her window how a woman had been brutally attacked when, finally, just as she was swaying between the few options she had (whether to use her magic or not to protect the people outside, or keep her powers under lock and key and hope the vamparic storm would pass on its own) when a man in a red coat, followed by a plump girl in yellow wears, finally appeared and saved the day with their guns. 

They showed no hesitance as they cleared their targets with a deadly accuracy, with their weapons raging, a noise that had ironically filled every corner of the neighborhood with security as the people finally felt like they’d been saved from those monsters: vampires. Kate always knew about them and that they existed, she also knew that no rogue vampire chose to be like that, but was simply driven to.

As the military cleaned the place from the ashes of the fallen, a royalty car drove into the scene from which a tall man got off, opening the backseat door to another person: a golden-brown-skinned blonde in an oily green suit, a military coat over broad shoulders and a lit cigar between small lips.

They saunter to the forefront, the rest following by in that person’s close vicinity like an undisturbed shield. That person looks like they’ve never bothered to lift the spoon to their mouth because there had always been someone else to do it for them, looks like they have everyone at their beck and call, ready to sacrifice themselves for that person’s goals. That person looks like the only important ones are those three shielding them and the rest are just either paws or enemies.

Now, Kate had never experienced the smack on the face by the feeling of desiring someone on the spot, so when her heart jolted and fluttered beneath her ribs, she knew she had to have that person.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**May of 2014**

 

The moan of the door heralds someone’s arrival, and she whips her head to the source, heart beating in her throat. Walter, tall and smooth just like she saw him that night in the neighborhood and later came to learn that he’d been serving the Hellsing since forever, walks in, long steps calculated.

“Miss Kate.”

Said girl pinpoints the papers in his hand; those must be the final results of the tests she’d undertaken. She never expected an IQ test would be included when she applied for the job. It is true that there have been rumors going on about the Hellsing manor; it fell under attack more than once despite them strengthening the security, and there are always military soldiers heading back and to this place and all the workers that have been here had to sign a contract in which they had to keep their work a secret.

Kate is a simple girl, maybe not very much so with her past and secrets, but she is, nonetheless, cheerful. You don’t get many chances to do this; take a risk at working in a dangerous environment just because you like the manor owner who doesn’t usually show up in public, and, whom, by the way, you don’t know much about or their personality. So Kate must be a little crazy going for this, but she’s always been careful, fearing the outcome and hesitating. Well, not this time.

She knows that there’s a hundred percent chance that she won’t get accepted, won’t see the owner even just once to soothe her growing desires, letalone a chance to talk to that person. This may all be pointless, but she’s here, she might as well listen to Walter’s decision.

“I've looked into your results,” he says as he sits himself across from her on the chesterfield, “Your table serving skills are not very impressive, I must say” –Kate winces inwardly because that could mean her getting rejected since she’s seen other candidates who also applied for the job offer doing much better– “You are also very clumsy when it comes to dealing with kitchen utilities, and I do not want a shard of glass in my master’s food.” –Kate lowers her head because chances of her getting the job are nonexistent at this point– “However, Mr. Alfred tells me the horses have taken quite a liking to you? Maybe we should start small. He needs an assistant, old age I fear; what do you say?”

Kate has worked at the stables before, she was also only assisting back then so she knows her way around it. She might be starting from cleaning after horses, which are animals, they don’t care where they take a dump, but as long as it’s inside the manor’s property, it’s enough.  

“I’ve worked in the stables before,” she tells him, “I think helping out is a good start for me.”

Walter’s old countenances brighten up, “very well, Miss Kate” he says, now placing the papers over the coffee table between them and twining his fingers over his crossed legs. “Let’s discuss your schedule, wage and dormitory.”

 

 

 

********

 

 

 

The drag of the time is like a slow death, especially when you know personal goals need to be achieved but you have no idea how. Although Kate has managed to get a job inside the Hellsing property, there has been no opportunity whatsoever to even see the owner, whom recently she’s come to learn is very much a woman –not a man as Kate had assumed the first night she saw her.

It's been months, and the progress to get closer to Sir Integra hasn’t only been slow, but almost nonexistent. A person with that power in that position, they don’t just take a stroll outside. So Kate knows that, at this point, she would be lucky to even catch a  _glimpse_  of that woman. She doesn’t understand this overwhelming sensation whenever Sir Integra’s face pops up, especially when she knows that that person is a woman. She’s never felt any attraction towards other women, only infatuations; this is why she can’t get it out of her head. That’s why she can’t give up.

 

Rain-charged clouds have hung low in the sky, like soot, like the residue of a massive fire smoke enwrapping their city and the manor. Troops of armed soldiers scurry like ants to several directions as a bulky man with a fat belly dressed in a uniform barks orders, his voice rumbling over the resonation of the drumming rain.

Kate has been left to finish while Mr. Alfred excused himself to his room to rest. The work has been exhausting today; with the news about the coming storm they needed to start work earlier than usual so they wouldn’t get caught up in the mess. Kate has finished the last of what was on to-do list, and, now, she is standing outside the stables, leaning on its doorframe and watching as bouts of lightning flash and penetrate the colossal clouds.

Every now and then, the soldiers’ united yells interrupt what’s slowly creeping into Kate’s thoughts: A song.

She remembers hearing a song once, and she remembers loving it to tears…

“ _But there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears.  And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears. Get over your hill and see what you find there, with grace in your heart and flowers in your hair_ …”

“Enchanting.”

Kate’s seen and been through so much that nothing pretty much shocks her at this point, like it’s been lulled, and silenced –the ability to feel surprised. But when that deep, velvety voice pierces her hearing, she finds herself trembling.

She stands upright in a presence she’s never even dreamed of having the honor to be with, alone too. Her eyes finally catch that glimpse, and, no, it isn’t just a glimpse anymore. She looks at the taller, larger woman and suddenly all air feels like it’s being sucked out of space.

“A poem?”

Wait, Kate is still trying to process the first word that’s been said to her by Sir Integra, the person to whom she doesn’t sleep unless she sends a thought or two, the person that’s always on her mind…

“Um, no, sir.” She quickly tacks on so she wouldn’t look stupid; well she’s sure she does with her jaw slack like that. Sir Integra looks like something you see in protected paintings inside museums, like a holly thing that mustn’t be touched, or defiled. “A song, actually.”

“About hope, I assume.”

This isn’t happening.

Sir Integra Hellsing isn’t standing here, enwrapped in her military coat, having a chat with a servant who works at the stables.

But… hope?

No, that isn’t the case. The reason why she remembered the song and chanted it with her eyes welled up with tears wasn’t hope.

Although it’s almost impossible to do, but Kate looks away from those sea-blue eyes, which sharpness can’t be veiled by glass, and faces the bustle of men in uniforms brandishing their guns about.

“It’s a song about soldiers, sir” –She informs, now jutting her chin towards them, and ignoring what was only a breeze earlier this afternoon and has now become an unremitting wind– “About men, not numbers. Men with souls, past and goals. With families. Leaving everything behind and heading to the battlefield with no guarantee of winning or returning. A battlefield where only death awaits. But they embrace it, the thing everyone is constantly running away from because they have to win, if not today, then tomorrow. If not tomorrow, then soon. They have to win, because death is not to be feared, and if you don’t win, death will not only be a release, but it will be your only adventure…”

“It is every soldier’s dream to fight for their country and die for it.”

That might be true, in times of war, men and women, even, strive to protect what they hold dear. The country isn’t only a place, it is home. It is what shelters their dreams and hopes. “Oh yes, dreams. Naïve beliefs and hopes of a glory that isn’t in sight yet, and which will soon be suspended because of mere survival…” Kate has seen men fall in battle, and bodies scattered on the ground, drowning in their own blood. No man in power has wept in the dread of the night at the losses, because soldiers are numbers, there are always others to replace.

The jugged flashes of lightening bring their talk to a temporary stop, where Kate inwardly panics about the possibility of her coming across as weird. Odd shuffling brings her out of her inner self-chiding.

“No one can predict the outcome of a war” –Sir Integra fishes out a cigar and a silver lighter from the pocket of her coat– “Do I just accept loss, when I know I could also win?”

“You can accept peace.”

“A war happens because a party doesn’t  _want_  peace, miss.” Sir Integra finally lights her cigar and takes a long whiff until her chest rises, then lets it out; abundant white smoke pushes out, getting taken over by the wind. “And there is no such thing as an easy death; no release or relief comes with failure. If one fails, the whole country falls.”

“What about the other things that a soldier can strive for –other dreams?”

“There is nothing more honorable than striving to serve your country.” saying so, she slips the lighter back into her pocket.

“I guess I can’t argue with the mentality of a fighter, sir.” Kate finally admits defeat. Well, she can’t deny her being weird has gained her a few minutes with the owner she always dreams about talking to, so the defeat is actually worthwhile, for once. “But can I ask you something, sir?” She guesses the master's silence is her cue. “Do you have a dream which you wish come true more than anything else?”

More smoke travels away with the wind, currents taking anything that is unfortunate enough to be in their way, before Sir Integra finally answers. “Yes, I do.”

“Then,” Kate returns a stray lock of her hair behind her ear before she perks up, finishing what she’s wanted to say. “Would you strive to make it happen, or would you accept death knowing nobody would be thrilled at your dreams being finally accomplished more than you would, sir?”

There’s a beat of silence, then it morphs into a moment but Sir Integra only finishes her cigar, as though Kate hasn’t been there conversing with her.

From her angle, Kate takes in all of Sir Integra; the long strands of golden hair being swayed back and forth by the persistent currents, the condensed glasses falling down the stretch of a perked nose and revealing dark blue eyes… She takes in the broad shoulders and the unusual height, the muscled body and the gloved hands.

Is she soft to the touch?

Kate is dying to know.

Sir Integra finishes her cigar and straightens up properly, her hands going into her pockets.

Kate doesn’t understand how a person can look so beautiful and handsome at the same time; a body of a man, a face of a woman, and a voice that falls in between… You don’t see that every day.

Sir Integra pushes off of the door when Walter’s voice approaches them; she adjusts the coat over her shoulders and moves forward, to leave.

Kate watches as Walter comes with an umbrella and starts a mumbled string of rebuking while Sir Integra only walks in silence; she pauses suddenly, when Kate starts to drown in self-pity, and chuckles.

“Well,” she said, “this surely has been an interesting smoke break.”

With that, she saunters forward like a soldier in battle, forging towards a victory that is hers.

 

At night, Kate replays the sound of Sir Integra’s voice, and what used to be only admiration coming in the spurts of stifled and shy giggles, is now an unrelenting heat spreading throughout her petite body, making her fondle herself and moan in pleasure…

 

 

A couple of months later, Mr. Alfred leads Kate to the main gate where the other servants are standing in a perfect line and waiting for Sir Integra’s arrival. She’d set out overseas for business and the house has been left in the servant’s care. So now it is their duty to welcome the master of the manor.

The royal car grooves smoothly through the entrance and then stops by the curbs. Walter exits the vehicle to open the backseat door, and then Sir Integra steps out, her intense presence stealing all attention; prying eyes finding something worth beholding.

In her usual sauntering gait, she zooms past them one by one as they bow their heads in greeting, and then Kate also bows. A tangy fragrance permeates Kate’s surroundings as the master walks past her in heavy footsteps, strong and confident –they suddenly come to a halt.

Kate’s heart, that’s already been beating in her throat, almost stops when Sir Integra retraces her steps back to stand before her. Kate slowly levers up, wide and confused eyes looking back at Sir Integra’s.

“A will…”

At first, that didn't make any sense. She adds “If I had to die, I woulf write my dream and give the will to someone… dear.”

The answer.

It’s the answer to Kate’s question from that night. Alright, so she doesn’t want to get over her head here but does this mean that Sir Integra, this unapproachable, invincible being… has been thinking for an answer to Kate's query this whole time?

Oh, one can only dream. One can only hope, and Kate is but a simple girl.

“Dear, but not strong or worthy?” Kate has to ask or she’s going lose sleep over it.

Sir Integra shakes her head on a smile, and it’s the most attractive thing Kate has laid eyes on.

“If they’re strong they will only accomplish my dream, if they’re worthy they’ll only be thrilled if my dream is accomplished. But if it’s someone dear, they’d accomplish it and be thrilled, for me and for themselves.”

And that is the longest she’s talked to Kate, and, God, everything is bursting inside Kate’s chest. Butterflies she didn’t know resided in her chest are now fluttering with happiness… She finds that she can’t take her eyes off Sir Integra’s, and she doesn’t think there’s a force out there that can make her.

She smiles, because she can’t help it.

This certainly gifts her with a sense of superiority; the scathing glares being sent her way are a pretty good testament, but this moment is hers. She might as will savor it up.

“Very clever, sir.”

Sir Integra’s smile thins into a smirk, and Kate loses sense of her toes; bit by bit, she feels as though she’s sinking into the ground. The master reels around and walks ahead, and adds over her shoulder, “Never underestimate the mentality of a fighter.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Mumford and Sons - After the Storm


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers of the book: Silas Marner

 

 

Aside from Mr. Alfred, Kate hasn’t had a chance to meet or talk with anybody else. Mr. Alfred isn’t exactly a fluent converser, and the difference in their age usually keeps their talk about work. He is a man of a few words, but when he does decide to share bits and pieces of what’s on his mind, it makes Kate’s working hours a little more interesting. She shares the dormitory with other servants, but they get along amongst themselves better since they work inside the manor together.

There also hasn’t been any opportunities in the offing to talk to the master of the manor again; that night a few months ago was pure luck. Maybe it would have been better if they never talked, at least, that way, she’d keep only dreaming knowing she doesn’t have a chance; but after what happened, Kate just doesn’t want to give up now. She may be merely a servant, but she is allowed to have hopes.

 

Instead of cleaning out the stables, Mr. Alfred suggests she herds the horses to the field and have them trot a little, which is something she’s never done. It’s true she works in the stables but that only includes her cleaning after them, feeding them and keeping watch over them. She’s never ridden a horse, and she’s never upped a horse to run. She doesn’t know if this is her area of expertise.

She follows the orders and guides two beautiful white horses to the field, pulling them by the reins. Mr. Alfred coaches her, his voice rising to bellow from time to time when she failed to follow the instructions.

In the end, he ends up walking into the field and taking care of the horses himself.

Kate retreats to the fence, leaning back on it and hating herself for failing. She catches a shape in the corner of her eyes, reels around and finds Seras, the vampire police girl, ambling towards the fence. Kate stands straight and smiles.

“Miss Seras,” she starts, “what brings you here?”

Said blonde mirrors the smile and props on the fence with her elbows, “Just taking a look.” She says, “We didn’t use to have horses here, you see. I still can’t get used to it.”

Kate heard stories from Alfred about that; he was cryptic and Kate didn’t push. It was Alfred’s habit not to gossip and Kate finds that admirable. She faces the field, where the old man is making the horses run in circles, and it’s beautiful to watch.

“They are very beautiful creatures.” Kate agrees, “Working with them is going to be a challenge.”

“I saw you, by the way.” Seras chuckles, her thin voice giving Kate a reason to sheer up.

Kate’s cheeks flush and she lowers her head, “I must have looked like an idiot,” she said, “It was my first time, and those horses are really stubborn.”

“You can do it.” Seras taps Kate on the shoulder with a light bump, “Don’t be discouraged.”

Appreciating the advice, Kate smiles and nods, “I won’t.”

“Hey, aren’t we the same age, what’s your name?”

Thinking about it, yeah, Seras was right; they do look the same age, same height, too. “I’m Kate.”

“Victoria.” She beams, “Are you from around here, Kate?” She asks on a grin.

“Um, no.” Kate replies, “I arrived in England a few years ago. I loved the place so I stayed.”

“Have you been to the Bridge yet?”

Seras is not only easy to talk to, but she asks things with genuine curiosity and it’s hard not to answer. Kate cocks her head in apology, “I haven’t.” she says, “Never got around to it.”

Seras drops her head on her crossed forearms and sighs, “Shame,” she says, and then perks up with a childish gleam in her wide eyes. “Oh, I know!” she gushes, “We should go there together some day!”

Was Seras really suggesting that?

It could be just words spoken on a whim, but it means a lot to Kate if someone from this manor is finally recognizing her existence –someone other than the horses. She delights visibly and nods.

“I say let’s.”

 

After finishing up, Kate rounds the manor, heading to the direction of the dormitory when something piques her attention. She grinds to a stop, looks around and then narrows her eyes at the thing lying on the ground under the window. She picks it up and skims through its pages; she doesn’t understand why a book is left here. She glances at the window glass as it reflects the crimson hues of the sky, and then looks up at the open window. She assumes the book fell from there so she takes it upon herself to return it after cleaning up.

 

She doesn’t know if there’s an emergency outside but the manor looks almost uninhabited. Dim illumination gifts her mind with unpleasant thoughts as she sees apparitions of things that aren’t supposed to be there. She quickens her pace, finally arrives at the room from which she assumes the book fell.

She knocks, but hearing no reply, she enters anyway.

Upon entering, the door creaks like an old cat dying from inhaling too much smoke; she scans the study with wary eyes, slowly approaching the large desk. She takes in the white and black tile-flooring, the wall shelves and the back of the green, padded chair at the desk. Everything is shaded in warm crimson hues that gush in from the large windows. The room smells like paper, cigarettes and lingering leftovers of a pungent perfume, a familiar perfume.

Nobody seems to be in sight either, so Kate sees no point in delaying her leave. But something stops her like the pull of magnet; the thought that this could very much be Sir Integra’s study…

Kate’s heart picks up tempo like a tango dance, and a sense of overwhelming excitement tangled with a sliver of fear overcomes her like a sea wave. She hugs the book to her chest and stills. Just as her mind registers the amazing fact that she’s in the master’s personal room, a door at the side opens, and all of Kate’s nerves come to a taut stop. The sound of her gulp resonates in the vast room, but the approaching footsteps mask all noises.

Sir Integra, with her flat, muscled chest puffed out, and her always gloved hands in the side pockets of her pants, saunters in, loafers clicking on the glossy tiles. Her eyes catch sight of Kate, her relaxed demeanor immediately becomeung on guard.

“What are you doing in my office?”

Kate’s body relinquishes panic, and she drowns in it. “Sir” she starts, flustered and red. “I didn’t mean to intrude –”

“Well, you did.” Sir Integra cuts her off, the admonishment clear in her voice. “What is your business here?”

“I found this.” Kate quickly shows her the book. “It was on the ground and this room was the only one with an open window. I figured somebody dropped it so I’m here to return it.”

Sir Integra scrutinizes the book as though it’s a snake with two heads, before finally lowering her head and sighing sadly. “I reckon giving it to Seras; she must have gotten bored of it.” She says on a frown, walking up to her desk. “You may dispose of it.”

Kate switches from the master to take a quick look at the book, the title reads ‘Silas Marner’, and then she looks back at Sir Integra. “I can’t do that, sir.”

Sir Integra looks up, she hasn’t sat down and she uses the opportunity to walk up to Kate, who is vacillating between staying put and backing away towards the book shelves. It’s too late because Sir Integra is now standing a stride’s length away from her, intense presence making the air around them thick to breathe.

With her height advantage, Sir Integra looks down since Kate is shorter; her glasses reflect the sunset’s burning color.

“Are you defying me?”

Cold numbness spreads across Kate’s limbs, and the book she’s hugging to her chest loses its weight suddenly. “I would never do that, sir.”

“Then” Sir Integra drawls, like she’s making a point being that she wouldn’t repeat her order. “Throw it away.”

Against her better judgment, Kate slowly shakes her head. She knows that is considered defying orders, and she could lose her job doing that, but she can’t allow this. There are some things that better be valued; a telling of a man’s undying faith is valuable.

“I can’t do that,” Kate says through harsh, labored breathing. “The contents aren’t mere words. They’re the recollection of man’s life story.”

“Oh, really?” She drones, “What kind of story might that be?”

“That of faith,” Kate says, “That karma is fair, and that whether someone hurts you or not, you just have to forgive.”

“Are you saying the story is telling you to be a selfless puppet, void of the will to fight?”

Kate looks up at last, finally meeting sapphire blue eyes as the sun changes its angle. “Selfless, maybe, at least nobody will be hurt by me.”

“I see. A quitter, aren’t you.” Sir Integra concludes, humming like she’s mused. “The will to fight is what keeps us alive, human. You give that up, you give up who you are.”

“So it’s fine for other people to be hurt because of me, because I want to live so bad?”

Sir Integra only keeps on staring back.

Kate’s eyes are wide and wet. “It’s selfish.” She yelps, “I want everybody to live. Selfishness only brings doom.”

“She finds his home and sleeps on his hearth, and then he’s given a second chance.” Sir Integra recounts things which Kate knows happened in the story. “Do you believe in that --second chances?”

“I do, sir.” Kate nods.

“Thysía.”

At the odd word, Kate tilts her head like a dog. “Sir?”

“Being selfless” –the corner of Sir Integra’s lip slowly turns up– “Wishing no soul would get harvested, aren’t you being selfish?”

“That reasoning…”

“Fascinating, no?” Sir Integra’s smirk deepens, “A sacrifice is indeed a selfish act, miss; selflessly letting a piece of you die every day because you do not want to see anyone hurt; well, are you really being fair to yourself?”

That’s… Kate never really thought of it like that. It isn’t right. This is giving reason to yourself so you’d live even if the others die. It’s selfish…

“Acting high and mighty, believing your selflessness and your sacrifice will be rewarded because you’re being good.” The master says, now a gloved hand reaches up, long fingers ghosting over Kate’s bottom lip, making her gasp with slight delight. They glide down, slowly, painstakingly so; they touch Kate’s chin, her collar and finally the book. “When, in fact, you are just as selfish as they come.”

“No…”

Sir Integra leisurely takes the book from her and places it on the shelf again, returns her hand in her pocket and falls silent.

Kate’s hands fall at her sides as she takes a calming breath. She survived what happened years ago, and she still lives. So maybe she never lost the will to fight, but she isn’t as selfish. The thought of somebody dying or hurt because her existence takes up too much space is poisoning. “She finds him, takes him out of his benumbed state and gives his life meaning.” Kate looks up, renewed resolve in her dark eyes. “He endured false accusations, being exiled and his treasure stolen, but he was rewarded without having to take someone’s right to live.” She says, but abruptly gets taken over by raw emotions again. Not knowing how to control them, her tears fall abundantly. “Even if I get hurt, I will never strive to live knowing I’m making someone else’s life miserable.”

As Sir Integra stares with piercing eyes, Kate falters under their weight and makes a quick work of wiping her tears away by her sleeves.

Sir Intergra suddenly steps back, turns and walks up to her desk again, “Dismissed.”

Kate bows, hating to be seen like this, she latches at the opportunity to escape the master’s study.

 

In the next day, Kate finds a strange young man in the stables, handling the horses with the ease of an expert.

“Hey, you, what’re you doing here?”

Startled, the man turns around with an assuring smile. He looks young, probably older than Kate by a few years. He has a beard. He is tall, muscular and innocent looking. He stretches his hand, “I’m Fajr, the new hostler.”

As the input sinks home, Kate wakes up from the shock and scowls. “What do you mean?”

Alfred then shows up, scrubbing the thin on the top of his head with his nails. He tells Kate that she’s wanted in the main office, Sir Integra’s office, and that her services are no longer required in the stables.

 

 

*******

 

 

Kate, who has no relish in this idea of her getting fired nor wanting to entertain it, stands before the closed door of the master’s study with slumped shoulders.  She’s gone to the extremities to sabotage the only chance she had, so she doesn’t know why she'd bothered coming to the office knowing she was called in to be properly decruited.

Still agitated, and, with her eyes shut, Kate pushes the door and stumbles in like she’s been shoved from behind. The odor of cigar infiltrates her nostrils, the rustling of papers take her attention to the large desk, finding Sir Integra sitting at it with Walter standing closeby.

At her entrance, Walter is the only one who looks up. He ushers Kate to come closer and she does. She clears her throat after reaching the desk and wraps an arm around her small breasts.

“I was told to come here?”

“Oh, yes.” Walter starts, taking a paper Sir Integra has just signed and adding it to the pile he’s holding in his other hand. “We have decided your performance at the stables is very poor, so Mr. Fajr will take over.”

Kate already foresaw this the moment Mr. Alfred looked apologetic. Her only regret is that she was the one who brought this on herself; but if she’s also honest with herself, she is glad her contract isn't being terminated because of misbehavior. Although, they could be giving her empty reasons and the reason could very much be her behavior last night.

“However,” Walter tacks on, “A maid has terminated her contract without any prior notice; she’s getting married, I hear. And while we’re happy for her, I’m afraid this has caused us a lot of inconvenience.” He finally pivots around to face Kate, “Would you mind taking over, until we find someone else that is.”

Taking a moment to let everything sink in, Kate finally jumps at the ‘second chance’ and beams. This might only be temporary, but she’s going to do everything in her power not to get replaced.

“I don’t mind, Mr. Walter.” She tells him, “thank you.”

“Very well then,” he smiles thinly. He takes the last paper from Sir Integra and walks past Kate, now telling her to follow suit so he’d show her to her chores.

Kate only lingers for a beat to take another glance of the master who hasn’t even registered her presence in the room. As much as discouraging she thinks that is, Kate also believes that this golden opportunity wasn’t just tossed her way randomly. What’s more, she’s going to watch her mouth from now on.

As Walter opens the door at the side, same one Sir Integra used yesterday, another shape ducks and walks in, tall and intimidating, and followed by Seras. Kate steps to the side to let the other two enter, and she can’t help the shiver that courses through her being near someone like the male vampire. He must be crazy strong if her powers, which she’s sealed years ago, are still sensing his novel presence.

Kate sneaks a glance and finds Sir Integra finally looking at something else other than her papers, her radars registering the arrival of those two. It sends a slight pang to Kate’s chest, but something like that won’t kill her will.

 

Mr. Walter walks her through the corridor and explains to her that the responsibility of keeping the master’s suit clean falls on her now. If it’s only cleaning, Kate can do that. To actually clean the master’s quarters… to be inside the room the master uses to sleep and change. This is entailing to a lot of things.

He also tells her that she should move her things to the new room in the dormitory –the room that used to be the other maid’s; because she is to start as of today.

 

After having everything settled, including herself in her new, more specious room, Kate receives her new short-sleeved, English maid outfit. She is told to immediately change into it and head back to the master’s room and prepare it.

 

Upon entering, a sudden rush washes over Kate, making her stomach somersault. This cologne mixed with a tinge of cigarette odor wafts in the room, a telltale, an evidence of Sir Integra occupying this room when she isn’t in her study or outside. And here is Kate, inside, touching the master’s stuff.

There isn’t really much to be put in order, the previous maid has honestly done a marvelous job keeping everything organized. Kate moves on to the king size bed. She removes the outer bedding, folds them neatly and stores them in the linen closet. She takes out the white bed sheets, which smell like the sun and that tells Kate they must have been very recently washed and sun-dried, and she spreads them on the bed. She also takes out a striped pajama, and she can’t help the joyous giggle at the image of Sir Integra wearing this like a kid, before laying it near the edge of the bed. Turning to the windows now, Kate remembers being told to drawn the curtains of one window and leave the other open, so she follows the instruction to the word.

As she turns to leave having double-checked and made sure everything was done as instructed, Sir Integra walks in.

All of Kate’s thoughts clash together; it’s a loud jumble in her head as her heart beats in her ears. She stills completely next to the open window and waits. Her existence gets completely ignored as Sir Integra heads to the bed and flops down on it with a sigh. She takes off her glasses and pinches the point of her nose between her eyes, rubbing the fatigue.

Kate, even if it sounds silly, she finds that very endearing.

“You’re still here.” The master drawls, exhaustion evident in her voice.

“Sorry, sir.” Fearing the loss of this chance too, Kate sprints towards the door. She comes to an abrupt stop, swivels around, bows with a gushed, ‘good night, sir’, before finally taking her leave and closing the door.

Outside, she inhales and exhales largely before finally heading back to her room.

 

That night, yet again, Kate is reminded of the phantom touch of fingers on her lips, gliding to her chin and her collar. She imagines them going even lower, and she spends what’s left of the hour loving her body.

 

As she is responsible for keeping the room clean, Kate is required to head to the master’s bedroom early, which means waking up an hour earlier for washing up, dressing up in the outfit and then having breakfast with the others. She meets Farj in the kitchen as well, and he becomes the first friend she’s made since arriving here.

Kate, then, quickens her steed in the corridor, arriving at last to the master’s room. She knocks and turns the knob, opening the door and going inside. She finds that the illumination is diffused inside despite the rising sun sending its rays to the world; one side of the room is basking in sun warmth because of the window left open, and the other, where the master’s bed is, is darkened.  Over the bed, Kate sees a hump wrapped in a cacophony of covers, long strands of golden hair manifesting against the headboard.

Kate’s heart gives a vigorous thud.

“Sir?” she starts, her voice calm and steady. “Sir, you need to wake up.”

The shape on the bed stirs, bringing Kate’s heart to a momentary stop. She advances even closer, rounds the bed to the side, leans over for a better examination. She sees Sir Integra’s sleeping face, although relaxed, still frowning. More to the point, she looks approachable. She isn’t that invincible, head of the Hellsing family persona Kate’s seen, she is within hand’s reach…

“Sir, it is time to wake up.”

The other shifts only to lift the hem of the bed cover over her broad shoulders. While Kate finds that adorable, it is also her job to make sure Sir Integra is up and about before seven. She tags at the covers gently, but Sir Integra’s grip on the hem is stronger.

At this rate, Kate is going to get scolded.

“Please, sir.” She starts, on a small whine. Still not giving up hope, Kate’s hand touches one of those broad shoulders, and caresses softly. It’s not like she wants it to happen, but her body is moving on its own; probably a consequence of resisting her urges for so long, forcing them down and shutting them off when she knows that every fiber in her wants this person. “Sir Integra…”

The master sits up like she’s been zapped, making Kate recoil a little. She arranges her long hair by raking her fingers swiftly through the frontal strands, and then she  _glares_  at Kate.

“Never do that again, am I clear?”

Despite the lump clogging her throat, Kate nods fervently and promises never again. She realizes that Sir Integra has slept in her official uniform, and it’s a shame since she wanted to see her in the striped pajamas.

Sir Integra exits the room and Kate stays behind to put everything back in order. After being done with the room, Kate goes back to the kitchen to help out for lunch and dinner preparations.

 

Night falls quickly, and Kate returns to the master’s room, and repeats the same chores from the night before; change the bedding, take out the pajama and put down the curtains. This time she’s told to open one sash of the window and close the other since the wind is blowing outside.

She’s still in the process of understanding how she can keep one sash open, when the door opens and Sir Integra walks in, Kate looks over her shoulder and squeaks nervously.

“The wind is blowing,” she yelps, “I can’t get this to close.”

Returning her eyes to the window, she doesn’t notice the body advancing up at her ubyil she it is pressing against her back. Kate’s goes taut; the press of the firm body on her back is something she couldn’t feel even in her dreams. She finds that she’s stopped breathing when Sir Integra snaked a hand under her armpit to lock the latch. When she pulls away, Kate almost drops to the floor because there is no strength in her legs to carry her anymore.

“And you’re supposed to serve me.” The master says on a faint smirk before retreating to the bed.

Kate swims past the deliriousness and the noise in her ears to apologize. “It won't happen again, sir.” Saying so, she watches how Sir Integra peels off her oily green jacket, the action making her sigh pleasurably, she slaps a hand to her mouth. “Good night, sir.” She bids in a poor attempt to cover up what she’s just done, and then she shoots towards the door.

“Hold it.”

Kate brakes in to a stop, the fear of getting a scolding turning her embarrassment to plain horror. She slowly turns around and faces the master of the manor, “Yes, sir?”

Sir Integra folds her jacket in a half and flings it to the bed, walks up to the nightstand and picks a cigar and a lighter, lights it, places it between her lips and sits on the edge of the bed after discarding the lighter on the nightstand. She cross a leg over the other and takes out the cigar, blowing out smoke, “Strip.”

Kate’s face pales; she almost feels the thud of her heartbeat reverberating across all her body, “Sir?”

Tsk-ing, Sir Integra returns the cigar to her mouth, takes a long whiff before exhaling it. “Are you hard of hearing,” she wonders, her stare blank, “or is the word too foreign for you?”

Something hot –smoldering hot burns inside her petite body; Kate knows this is something she’s seen countless of times in her fantasies, but this isn’t a fantasy. She doesn’t even know if by stripping, Sir Integra will be trying to prove a point, which, for Pete’s sake, Kate has no idea what could be.

“I said” –Sir Integra squishes the cigar on the small ashtray over the nightstand– “take off your clothes.”

Against herself, Kate finds that she’s following the order like she’s been enchanted; Sir Integra’s voice could be the enchantment. She starts with the small, white apron, removing it and letting it fall beside her foot. She unbuttons the black dress, and while doing so, she marvels at the way Sir Integra is eyeing her body. She feels the spot between her legs twitching and tingling, and she even feels her nipples slowly perking up. Excitement becomes an entire different meaning with the real thing, and she goes from her existence being ignored to being the mater's center of attention.

She can't resist the idea alone....

She takes off the dress, stands there in her undergarments only.

“Take off everything.”

“Even my underwear, sir?”

The other doesn’t repeat herself, like she knows her order isn’t going to be defied. She’s right. Kate, although squirming at first uncomfortably under the piercing stare, she ends up twisting her arms behind her back to undo her bra, and it falls without a sound. She slowly guides her hands lower, to her panties, hooks her thumps under the waistband, like she’s unconsciously teasing the other, and finally slides them down, placing them near her foot and adding to the pile of clothes she’s taken off.

Sir Integra remains silent. Her eyes inspect all of Kate’s body from head to two. Kate could bear with the stare, but it’s the silence that’s making this too much to handle.

“Um…” she starts, but gets interjected by the master very soon.

“Turn over.”

She doesn’t see a point in that, but she turns over anyway. She bares her back to Sir Integra, and accepts the fact that what should be hers is now being eyed by the person she wants to be with.

“I see,” the master hums, allowing Kate to turn around again. “You may leave now.”

Kate plunges into her pile of clothing, picks them and hugs them to her chest before running out while hurling a high-pitched ‘good night, sir.”

 

She wears everything back on outside the door so she wouldn’t be seen walking these corridors naked. She returns to her room after refusing Fajr’s polite invitation to have some dinner he’d managed to save for her, and spends a lot of hours touching her body and moaning Sir Integra’s name.

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

For three nights in a row, Sir Integra does not make any odd demands except ordering Kate to bring a bottle of wine on a rainy night. Although it’s been awkward, to say the least, every since Kate stripped in front of the master, she also admits that a part of her –a part she didn’t know she had in her, really enjoyed it. The point here isn’t her taking her clothes off, it’s the fact that Sir Integra’s eyes, even for a mere moment, only saw Kate and her body.

Because of the rain two nights ago, Kate couldn’t air out the bed sheets, today, however, looks bright. She goes into the master’s room, finding it empty; she’s heard of a new danger in town which has been keeping the Hellsing organization very busy lately. She changes the beddings and takes the dirty ones to wash.

She knows her powers could end their struggle with a snap of her fingers, but she also knows that, the moment the seal is broken, danger will shadow every step in her life. Kate doesn’t want a repeat of what happened, and that has become her sole consolation.

Having finished all her chores, she spends the last hours of the afternoon at the stables, chatting away with Fajr and learning a lot about taming wild horses from him. The talk shifts to them agreeing on going downtown in their coming day off, which is in a month from now. At the same, she waits for the sheets to dry out.

 

The bustle of armed soldiers and busy truck tires at the gate indicate the arrival of Sir Integra, so Kate excuses herself so she’d tend to the master if she decides to use her room.

At some point during the past three days, it became Kate’s responsibility to be at the master’s beck and call. Her chores went from room cleaning to keeping Sir Integra comfortable by doing all her biddings. While Kate finds that tiring sometimes, she can’t deny the joy in it as well; serving Sir Integra Hellsing has been a goal once upon a time, but now it’s really happening.

 

Upon meeting Walter in the hallway, the latter instructs Kate to see to everything Sir Integra might need because it’s been a long, tiring day and it falls on Kate to lessen the burden of the responsibility lying on her shoulders by not failing.

Kate goes into the master’s bedroom, the resonation of water hitting tiles coming from the bathroom tells her that the master is taking a shower. Kate’s come to learn that Sir Integra doesn’t take too kindly to people interrupting her shower, so Kate’s never dared to impose.

She knocks on the door left ajar, “Sir,” she starts, “Do you need a change of clothes?”

The reaction is something that Kate should become used to but simply can’t; getting ignored like she’s a fly isn’t joy-inducing. She knows the master of the house isn’t expected to care about people that mean nothing to her, but it doesn’t necessary lower the blow of this nasty feeling.

Kate remains by the door in case she is needed, and the wait doesn’t last long as the water stops. Sir Integra walks out with only a towel around her waist; Kate’s eyes immediately falling on the flat, yet abs-protruded chest.  The master walks up, barefooted and non-spectacled, towards the side of the bed where there’s always a cigar and a lighter on the nightstand nearby. She lights it and puts it between her lips.

“Get my pajama from the closet.” She orders after exhaling smoke.

“Right away, sir.” Kate, closing her eyes to the fact that her vagina is pulsating, scurries towards the closets, picks out the striped pajama and returns to Sir Integra’s side.

At a closer look, Sir Integra’s eyes look hollow, like there hasn’t been much sleep involved and not in the festive, fun way. She’s sitting with her elbows propped on her parted knees, her thumbs massaging her temples. So, maybe Walter wasn’t just blowing things out of proportion when he made those instructions.

Kate places the clothes on the bed and heads to the nightstand, opening the drawers for undergarment when a sudden shove to her shoulder sends her landing on her side. She looks up with a little reproach and surprise; there was no reason for her to get pushed. However, the sheer apathy in Sir Integra’s eyes makes Kate shudder.

“Take them off.”

Sitting up properly, Kate, as before, starts with her apron, and then the black robe. The next order doesn’t come because she knows when Sir Integra says ‘off’ it means everything should be off. So she removes her underwear as well. She sits there with her legs lying askew to hide what can be hid.

“Your hair” –Sir Integra blows out more smoke– “let it down.”

Kate undoes the hair band, letting her chocolate brown strands fall on her narrow shoulders.

At first, Sir Integra only stares, making Kate assume that she would have enough soon like last time; however, the master makes another order, resulting in Kate’s entire body to quiver with an unspeakable force.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Sir Integra sounds impatient, “I said touch yourself.”

Taken aback, Kate only wraps her arms around chest and flicks her eyes elsewhere. “I…” she chews on her bottom lip, “I’ve never done it in front of someone else.”

“Well” Sir Integra smirks, but it looks weary “here is your chance to shine.”

That doesn’t sound motivational at all so Kate remains motionless.

“Stroke your breasts.” The second order arrives too soon.

The thing is, even if Kate needs to refuse, she finds that she doesn’t want to. This is basically everything she’s dreamed of; Sir Integra looking only at her, noticing her and… admiring her, why not. OK. So maybe she’s getting ahead of herself here, but Kate truly believes that her taking over the previous maid’s chores is a second chance, and she already promised not to sabotage it again.

As though in a trance, Kate’s hand slowly glides up to her collar, barely touching. She slides the tips of her fingers along her sternum, closes her eyes because she can’t handle the unaffectedly uncanny look in those sapphire orbs. Unbidden, she returns her hand to her collar and then goes upper, to her delicate neck, strokes it lovingly and tilts her head to the back, like she does a lot of nights. Her other hand soon joins its twin, going to her breast and fondling it so smoothly like it’d pop with too much strength. Opening her eyes and letting out continuous, small pants, Kate now strokes both her breasts, glances up fleetingly and catches sight of something that brings her motions to a stop.

It’s true that when she first saw Sir Integra she’d thought that person was a man, but then Alfred denied, saying that everyone here knows the master is a woman. Despite the status, Kate also came to believe that. But in the past few days alone, she’s come to realize that everything that had been said to her might have been wrong. Take the flat chest for example; Sir Integra has never openly exposed her body to anyone, especially not to Kate, but, despite that, Kate knew there were only muscles under those layers of military wears.

Now, however, it seems she’s finally caught the rat from the tail. Now, it seems she’s gotten the ultimate proof that would show everybody that her assumption was right. There’s a bulge growing in size under the towel, and Sir Integra isn’t doing anything to hide it. Nothing rises up like a flag like that in a woman’s body; except if she had a cock, which, wow, Sir Integra seems that she does.

In a flash, Sir Integra’s curious stare morphs into a glare, and just like that the moment is gone. “Leave.”

Kate is soon on her knees, framing Sir Integra’s thighs. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” She assures in a hushed voice, as though if she goes any octave higher Sir Integra would physically toss her out of the room. “I kinda knew, call it a hunch.” The blue orbs lose their glint as Sir Integra stares down at Kate with something vague.  Kate pushes for more. She licks her lips and nods towards Sir Integra’s crotch, “can I…?” Hearing no reply, Kate reaches to the bulge with her trembling hand. She’s never seen a cock in real life, never touched it either. She knows her lack of experience will cause her dearly, but the urgency to touch Sir Integra makes her lose all reason. She cups her palm on the shaft, and the sound of Sir Integra’s prolonged hiss makes her pussy throb. She can’t believe she’s about to do this, and what’s more, she can’t believe she’s about to do this to Sir Integra’s body.

She furls the towel downward, allowing the hard, veiny cock to pop free. She swallows at the sight.

“Are you going to keep staring at it for the rest of the night?”

Kate gives a stutter-y laugh, “No, no” she pledges, and nibbles at her bottom lip. She doesn’t even know what she’s doing but she relies on sheer will to guide her through as she fists the shaft, causing Sir Integra to react again, rubs it; up-and-down movement growing ardent when she feels hot precum spilling on her hand and between her fingers. The feeling of this hot piece of meat in her palm should be… it should be negative on her but it’s far from it. Kate’s pussy is tingling and twitching, wishing the cock would go in her. In her moment of frenzy, she dips down, flaps her tongue on the crown and causing Sir Integra to grunt.

“Heavens…”

Sir Integra’s voice’s gone gravel with pleasure, all because of Kate, nobody else. So Kate takes it upon herself to do more. She parts her mouth and takes the erect cock between her lips, before finally sweeping it in like a vacuum.  The feeling is something she’s never experienced before; the bitter taste on her tongue, her lips on someone else’s privates. She bobs her head on the cock, taking it deeper each time.

Sir Integra’s hands, ungloved, they sink into Kate’s hair from both sides; at first, the feeling is almost assuring and securing, until Sir Integra tightens her grip and snaps her hips, thrusting her cock deeper and causing Kate to yelp.

“Do it right or don’t do it at all.” She groans, “Teasing me like that, did you think I would just sit down and take it.”

Choking noises leave Kate’s clogged throat; alright, she wasn’t planning on any of them getting too excited but she doesn’t want this. She can feel that rod-like thing reaching all the way to the back of her throat, filling her mouth, while her body spasms and squirms, struggling to find some relief.

Sir Integra’s thrusts become relentless as she reaches climax; and in one major spurt, she shoots inside Kate’s throat, finally letting go of the girl’s head. Kate falls to the back, coughing and wheezing, wiping her lips with the back of her hand.

Sir Integra comes down from her afterglow, her chest heaving. “That was enjoyable, I must say.” Her body language is back to defense and shutting Kate off. “I’ll call for you later, you can go now.”

Without the underwear, Kate wears the black mini robe, leaves after collecting the rest of her belongings, bows and bids the master a good night.

 

As the water falls on her skin, washing away sweat and dirt, and Sir Integra’s cum, Kate starts feeling thorns of guilt slowly swiping at her. Even in the heat of the moment, she shouldn’t have allowed herself to become something to be used. Sir Integra said she would call for Kate again, does that mean she’s officially settled on making Kate her means of sexual frustration relief?

This is what Kate doesn’t understand; Sir Integra has status, money, fame and she could get anyone she wanted, but she’s relieving her urges with a maid?

Maybe it isn’t about relieving one’s desires, maybe Sir Integra really finds her interesting, and… maybe she wants Kate same as Kate wants her…?

 

 

 

 

The touch of sun-kissed sheets is so comforting that Kate lolls her head from side to side, sighing into them and leeching the faint remnants of Sir Integra’s cologne, which she is also sure is coming from the military coat beside her. Her fingers rub down her crotch, sending pleasurable tremors all over her body and making her nipples go more erect. She glides a hand to her breasts and fondles them, moaning at the resultant feelings. With eyes drooped, she looks towards the window shedding carroty-hued light on the bed –where Sir Integra is leaning on the sill.

She doesn’t remember how but Kate is pretty sure it started like always –with Sir Integra telling her to strip first then touch herself. This time, however, Kate demurred for she had never done it standing, and, mother of surprises, Sir Integra didn’t settle on making it another ‘chance to shine’ as she allowed Kate to the bed while she kept by the window, finishing her cigar and watching.

It’s been like this for some time now, with Kate touching herself but unable to reach orgasm. She’s never been watched doing this, and she doesn’t find voyeurism very exciting –no, it isn’t a matter of exciting or not, she just feels too overwhelmed being watched with those blue orbs. Just as the idea swarms up in her head, she catches sight of Sir Integra’s hand going to the zipper and taking out her veiny cock, and Kate’s reaction changes completely. Her breath becomes more erratic and her eyes more focused. All this time, it’s been just her performing, never Sir Integra; watching the master rubbing that cock makes Kate go all hot. She props her head off of the bed to take a better look, finding and loving how Sir Integra is stroking her cock very slowly, teasingly…

Her fingers, slick and a little rigid from repeated rubbing, rub even more vigorously. “Sir…” she moans through parted lips; her eyes narrowed as the intensity of the sensation rises, spreading out from her pussy and blooming out into her abdomen. Kate takes a precautionary hold of the coat beside and throws her head to the back with a cry, her toes pressing into the mattress and every muscle in her becomes taut as she cums, letting out continues small whimpers before finally fanning on the pillows, her hair spilling on the fabric.

Her parched tongue cleaves to the roof of her mouth, wetting it. Her throat convulses and she gulps, unable to resist the pull of the intense afterglow. The coat on the side of her face makes the pungent perfume surge over like mist, and she drowns in it, imaging Sir Integra touching her…

Kate registers the approaching footsteps, heavy loafers hitting the enamel as Sir Integra makes for the bed, cigar long forgotten, left to burn down to ashes on the stool. Kate forces her lids apart, and seeing that Sir Integra was getting on the bed, Kate stills completely, even her erratic panting from just now starts to even out. She watches how Sir Integra kneels at her side, now bringing her precum-slicked cock to one of Kate’s breasts, stroking it on the erect nipple and making Kate not only blush hard at their sudden proximity and intimacy, but become more aroused too.

Kate watches intently how the cock she slurped on so earnestly last night is now being rubbed on her nipple by Sir Integra, and so she inhales in a hiss, followed by an exhaled a sigh. And she does it again and again the longer the hot cock touches her skin. Unbeknownst to her, Sir Integra glides a gloved hand to Kate’s pussy, barely touching it but it’s enough to make Kate arch her back off the bed.

“Oh, God…”

As though Sir Integra gets enticed by that, she moves her hand, only to remove the glove and then return those fingers to the hungry clits, rubbing them the same way Kate did a while ago. Kate lets out more passionate moans since the feeling of the hand of this person she loves feels better on her than her own fingers. She brings a hand to the cock still rubbing on her breast and frames its shaft, causing Sir Integra to groan. Kate isn’t trying to return the favor, but she wants them both to feel good from this, not just her. She skids closer to the cock in her hand and seals her lush lips on the head while flapping her tongue on the opening. Sir Integra’s fingers rub more, and then two of them fall into a nice rhythm.

“Ah…” Kate moans through parted lips and then takes the cock in her mouth again, sucking on the head and rubbing the shaft.

Sir Integra’s finger slithers lower, towards the wet entrance and Kate perks up at that. Sir Integra, unaware of the other’s reaction, pushes a finger in, ending up with Kate taking the cock out of her mouth to prop up properly on her elbow.

“Wait…” She beseeches, but the way Sir Integra pays no heed to her pleas and pushes another finger in makes Kate wince on a poorly stifled whimper. “Please, wait. It hurts.”

That actually manages to stop those fingers from pushing deeper, and Sir Integra takes out her fingers, bemused. “How do you suggest we finish this then?” She says, “Or are you suggesting I make use of your mouth again?”

Kate looks up at the other, and she doesn’t know how to explain it right but being this close to Sir Integra almost makes her heart burst with joy. She hasn’t let go of the veiny shaft yet, and she rather likes the feeling of being the only one allowed to do this with Sir Integra’s privates. What’s been said then dawns on her and she shakes her head; she knows she said she’d love for Sir Integra too feel good, but that includes her as well, and getting deep-throated did not feel good.

“We can ––I mean, it can’t be that painful, right? Everyone says it feels good after a while.” Saying so, she peeks up at the other’s reaction but all she gets is a blank stare. She’s so awkward and she wishes she knew how to change that about herself.

“You mean to tell me” –Sir Integra starts, lips curling up from the corner into a smirk– “that you are a virgin?”

Having no place else to hide, Kate’s hand lets go of the cock altogether as she looks elsewhere, wishing she didn’t say or hint anything that indicate to her state of having lived for years without being touched. “I’m…” she wants to lie, but something tells her it’d be so easy to read through. “I’m sorry.”

After a prolonged pause, shuffling finally comes from Sir Integra’s end that alerts Kate, and she looks up, finding Sir Integra settling between her parted legs.

“Sir...?”

Sir Integra ducks downward, lowering her head on Kate’s throbbing, unsatisfied pussy, making the girl nibble at her bottom lip with uncontainable excitement. Sir Integra is going to do that for her, she’s going to be all close to Kate’s privates and the latter just can’t believe it.

Kate’s hands dart to Sir Integra’s head, holding it from both sides. “W-wait, are you sure? You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.” Although, Kate really wants her to.

Ignoring her, Sir integra’s tongue flicks over Kate’s clitoris, hot and skillful. “Oh, you’re already so wet.”

Kate tosses her head to the back again at the first contact, allowing her pornographic moans to resonate in the vast room. She feels the tickling morphing into strong pleasure, closes her senses to this earthly world, and loses herself in the feeling of being Sir Integra’s focus.

“Oh my God… sir…” She moans, “Your tongue, it feels so good.”

Sir Interga’s caused frictions become more intensified and all Kate can do in her state is moaning herself hoarse while withering in pleasure.

“I’m gonna…” she whines, now lifting her head off the pillows to look between her legs; she falls in love with the sight. “Oh god, I’m going to cum, sir, put it in, please. Want it. Want you so bad.”

Sir Integra holds off all motions and sits up, giving her cock a few testing rubs. “Do you want to give it to me, your first time?”

Kate is nodding, more eager than she would ideally like, “Yes, Sir Integra. I want you.”

“Are you certain–” Sir Integra hooks the nooks of her elbows under Kate’s knees and presses forward, her face getting closer to Kate’s. “A first time should be with a person you love.”

Kate’s lips break into a smile, and she doesn’t care how her smile looks since it caused Sir Integra to frown, but she keeps it plastered on. She’s spent a lot of time in her life undecided about things, but when she finally took action and came here to this manor, she didn’t do it on a whim. She’d already fallen in love with Sir Integra, and she promised to never sabotage any chance she’s given so here she is, about to connect bodies with Sir Integra on the latter’s personal bed. She nods; she is more than certain.

Sir Integra’s cock gets lined against Kate’s entrance, and every recipient nerve in said girl’s body focuses on the slow penetration until the sensation becomes too painful to bear up with. She lets out another whimper, this time it falls between a desperate yelp and an excited gasp.

“Try to relax,” Sir Integra grunts, hot breath fanning on Kate’s lips so she clings to the broad shoulders for an anchor. Kate is glad her hands aren’t swatted away. Sir Integra presses more against Kate as she pushes her cock deeper, causing Kate to whimper again. Sir Integra probably gets annoyed at the squirming coming from Kate so her firm hand immobilizes her by the chin, and Kate looks up with eyes welling up with unshed tears. She connects their lips, the unshed tears in Kate’s eyes roll down her cheeks free. She can’t believe she’s being kissed by Sir Integra; this proximity, this sensation of lips on hers… she is hoping it isn’t just another dream. Although, it’s never felt this real in her dreams; and what’s more, she can’t believe that the pain is slowly ebbing.

Maybe it was the effect of the kiss, Kate really likes the sound of that; besides, she believes in magic.

 

The slow paced thrusts have picked up steed, Kate lies there with her limbs wrapped around Sir Integra’s clothed body like a koala, and their lips still pressed on one another. Her body is rocking up and down, and hollow, wet slaps of skin hitting skin result from the momentum of Sir Integra’s deep thrusts. Kate makes small noises into Sir Integra’s mouth, and they vary from whines to moans, but the lips suckling on and licking hers overshadow any discomfort.

“Sir Integra…” Kate keens drunkenly into the kiss, and suddenly feels a hand going to her head, playing with the brown strands. She pulls away from the kiss, despite it being the most thing she doesn’t want to do right now, just so she could look Sir Integra in the eyes.

The fond look in those sapphire blue pupils adds another reason for Kate to fall in love with Sir Integra. She glides a hand up Sir Integra’s back and to the nape, loving the touch of golden locks on her forearm. Even though no words are being delivered, Kate somehow reads it clear on the other’s face; she is going to reach climax soon and she doesn’t want to pull out.

“It’s fine, sir.” Kate’s hand that’s in Sir Integra’s hair slides down to the latter’s cheek, framing it and holding it like it’s the most precious thing. “I don’t mind. You can do it.”

Hoisting Kate’s legs over her shoulder, Sir Integra pins Kate in a posture that has the small of her back off the bed sheets and the breasts against her muscled chest, and then she snaps her hips, pounding into Kate until the girl buries her face into the other’s neck, hoping it’d muffle her delighted screams.

The cock inside her pulsates before hot cum erupts and shoots inside her, reaching her womb and if it’s not the most amazing feeling Kate’s ever felt then she doesn’t what is. When the tremors stop coursing in her body, Kate’s limbs loosen, slowly unwrapping from Sir Integra’s body.

Summoning a show of courage, she speaks into Sir Integra’s ear “I’m happy…the happiest I’ve been in my life.”

The other rolls her hips after a vague pause and slowly pulls out; Kate registers the way Sir Integra slide out of the bed, and she also registers the way her hand reaches for the coat beside her to fling it on her before finally falling asleep with a question on her mind; was sir Integra’s first time with a person she loves?

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

Her eyes flutter open, catching the dimness of morning light, she lolls her head to the side but finds that it’s only her in the bed, and the military coat lying in a heap beside her. Kate attempts to sit, deciding she shouldn’t dawdle in the master’s bed when said master herself is up and about; has been for quite some time too if the faintly warm mattress is of any good indication, but the moment she lands on her soles, the sore heaviness in her bottoms and knees sends her crashing to the floor.

Kate looks up in disbelief; the cold trickle down her thighs asserts last night’s happenings. She looks down between her parted legs and finds a whitish liquid spilling down, tingled with a little blood; her face immediately flushes red: last night, on this bed, she lost her virginity; gave it to the master of this house, to Sir Integra.

Sir Integra kissed her –Kate ghosts her fingertips over her lips, the action done slowly and absentmindedly– and touched her tongue, her breasts and every visible inch of her body. Sagging on the side of the bed, Kate recounts everything with outlining idea that she’s never been this close in bed to someone before.

In the end, she musters what’s left of her strength, that’s been spent mostly taking Sir Integra’s cock in, and traipses towards the bathroom that she knows she isn’t allowed into. She discerns the chores awaiting her, including cleaning this bathtub, which is why she ventured to use it without permission. It’s a little price to pay, yes, but she’s won something worthier of her time and efforts.

Showing up in the corridors, Kate feels as though schooling her flushed cheeks and her delighted giggles would be the trickiest to avoid talking or passing by other servants. Even Mrs. Marcy, the chubby, red-cheeked chief helper who’s always brandishing a spatula in hand for some weird reason, has picked up on Kate’s odd silence and has attempted to coax the girl to ‘spill her beans’. Kate’s spilled more than that back in the bathroom inside the master bedroom and that’s more than enough for her. Far has also nudged her side with his elbow to answer his worry, which she does with a vague, ‘I’m totally fine, just a slight fever maybe’.

 

Later that day, Kate is instructed to head to the master bedroom earlier for Sir Integra has a migraine which she wishes to sleep off. She already replaced the bed sheets while her mind provided the signaling reminder that there was cum on them. She goes there, now, to close one of the windows, ready the master’s pajamas and prepare the bathroom; besides, she heard that warm showers can head off migraine pain.

As Kate steps out of the door, looking up, she spots Sir Integra heading towards her with a visible crease across her pale forehead. She tenses, and remains rooted to the spot. Sir Integra finally catches up, and Kate’s overactive excitement and embarrassment is quickly replaced by worry.

“Sir,” she starts, and the other pauses in front of her, “I heard” –she clears her throat– “I heard you refused food, is your migraine that bad?”

Instead of a reply, Sir Integra surprises the other by acting like she hasn’t been asked anything. “Is the bathroom prepared?”

Dazed, Kate nods and blinks a few times. “Yes, it is.”

Sir Integra walks past her and into the room, closing the door with a light slam.

Still confused, Kate staggers away from the door, making her way to the kitchen. She asks for Mrs. Marcy’s help to prepare some ginger; the source of ‘shower relieves headaches’ input didn’t fail to add that headaches can cause nausea, and that explains Sir Integra’s pale complexion.

Upon entering, Kate finds that Sir Integra hasn’t left the shower yet, so she replaces the ginger on the nightstand near the ashtray, before finally sneaking out again.

 

Profound feelings of disquiet rob Kate of a good rest that night, and she finds that she can’t fall asleep knowing that Sir Integra hasn’t eaten anything because of chronic pain. Eventually, she untangles herself from her cover, wraps her petite body in a dressing gown, and, barefooted,  scurries towards the kitchen, where she stored a couple of packs, and she pours hot water on them. She almost knocks to the butler, but relaxes when the disaster is avoided after he pivots himself to the opposite direction.

Kate is well aware of the fact that she might get in trouble for this if she gets found out; she is obsessing over someone whom she cannot monopolize. She already admitted to never allowing herself to be selfish, and wanting to monopolize someone is exactly that. More to the point, she knows she can’t have Sir Integra all to herself; this is just because she cares, a little too much.

 

Inside the room, she finds that Sir Integra has already settled under the quilt. Kate’s heart is struck by a warming, fuzzy shiver when she sees the ginger in the glass has been chugged to the half. She nears the bed, brings the pack to Sir Integra’s forehead, placing it gently.

Kate didn’t count on getting found out, she honestly believed she was thorough and discreet, but Sir Integra’s blue eyes snapping at her shakes her cores.

“What are you doing?”

Kate takes a faltering step rearward, looking a Sir Integra who’s slowly sitting up, angry features boring at her.

“I-I was just” –she gulps– “the pack.”

At that, the pack on Sir Integra’s forehead slips, falling to her lap and so she looks down, taking it in her ungloved hand. “What is this?”

“A heating pack, sir, it’s supposed to be good for migraines.”

 Sir Integra looks up again, “Who told you?”

“Mr. Walter, sir.” Kate immediately responses, her hand gripping her sealed mark on her other forearm.

Sir Integra’s eyes stare blankly at her, before finally traveling down the length of Kate’s neck, the brown locks on those narrow shoulders, and then the gown. “Take it off.”

Perplexed, Kate cocks her head. “Yes?”

“I think we’re past you getting a question mark on your face every time I say something,” Sir Integra drones, now reeling a little to toss the pack on the nightstand, “I’m telling you to undress, or is that too complex for your perception capacities.”

Finally deciphering the meaning, all of Kate’s inner alarms go off. “But, sir…” she trails off before finally speaking her mind. “My body is still recovering from last night.”

The master’s lasting glare then reduces Kate’s opposing to nothing but acquisition as she unties the lapses, letting the gown part open and show parts of her body. She slides it off her shoulders and lets it fall to the floor, now revealing her undergarments. She’s been through this before, so she knows she is expected to remove her underwear also, which she does.

Standing bare, Kate fights the urge to curl up into a ball on the floor to hide her embarrassment, she waits until the master allows her into the bed before she moves again, sidestepping the bed before finally crawling on to it.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

Lying on her side and facing the windows, Kate feels her body getting rocked every time her pussy is pounded. She remembers the slightest of aches flickering at the very first phases of penetration, but the pain soon dissipated to be replaced by this unbelievably pleasurable feeling having Sir Integra’s cock thrusting deep inside.

Kate feels the master’s ragged breaths fanning on her ear and the long stretch of her neck, an arm hooked under her breast level with the hand squeezing it, the other holding Kate’s leg up from the nook of her knee; Kate assumes it’s as such for easy access and deep thrusts. She clutches at the sheets, and lets out continuous small, sultry whines and whimpers. Kate feels the feverish robust body behind her slamming into her with a purpose, and she suddenly fears what letting herself drown in this pleasure would make of her; while she can’t deny how good the master is making her feel, she also doesn’t want to surrender to that feeling yet, otherwise, everything will lose meaning.

Sir Integra hasn’t said a single word, and Kate is longing to hear that velvety voice already. She wants to hear it whispering into her ear like she always imagined, speaking to her about love and passion, and making her body ignite more.

“Sir…” She mewls, her lush lips parting and her teeth gritting on one another. “Rough, you’re too rough.”

The other keeps on the tempo of her relentless thrusting as though no complaints have been worded. 

Kate, in her daze, tosses her hand behind and clutches at the master’s head. She’s been trying to keep it at bay all this time, but the sensation just has too strong of a hold on her that she cannot fight anymore. “Fuck…” she gasps, her clutch on the master’s hair tightens. “I’m... going –I’m going to cum.” She keens.

 

Her hand sags and slides to the mattress as Kate lies there, panting like she’s just slipped out of a nightmare. She winces when Sir Integra pulls out, and shiny cum pours out, abundant and hot.

“Can I use the bathroom?” asks Kate, her voice hoarse from all the moaning she’s done.

Sir Integra faces the other side. “Clean it when you’re done.”

Kate nods weakly and leaves the bed, stepping into the bathroom and closing the door.

She did it again; she allowed her body to give up to the temptation that’s been presented to her in that form sleeping in bed, and she should hate her impromptu decision that has officially made her a thing, but, surprisingly, a part of her is thankful. She knows that if this keeps up, she’ll have a hard time letting go if the time comes. And, knowing her luck, it very much will.

Tonight’s sex was rough and emotionless, and that’s probably what they call physical. Kate has hoped that she would at least get a kiss when if it was over, but, again, she shouldn’t have counted on her luck to play for her favor.

 

Returning back to the room, Kate stands by the side of the bed, contemplating whether she should leave or stay, before she finally settled on staying because Mr. Walter could still be wandering in the empty hallways like a restless ghost. She slips her bare, chilly body under the quilt, and nuzzles up closer to Sir Integra.

“Go to your room.” The master grumbles with a sleepy voice.

Taking in the broad shoulders and the lonely back, Kate decides she can’t leave. “Just for tonight, please.” She implores, her forehead tapping against the master’s shoulder blades.

Hearing no reply, Kate smiles secretly to herself, letting her tired eyes close on their own, taking her to the realm of dreams.

 

She snuck out of the master’s bed this morning, making use of Sir Integra’s deep slumber. Kate, just to be honest with herself and her true desire, she loitered in the bed just enough to eye her defenseless master. She loved the hold-up allowing her to etch every feature and twitch on Sir Integra’s face, before a stabbing melancholy altered her feeling about it; she is a servant, and without her powers, she’s just as ordinary as the next guy and the only reason Sir Integra is sleeping with her is because she wishes to relieve her urges. It is disheartening.

Kate looks up at Fajr as the latter sneaks out some food from the fridge while Mrs. Marcy chases him around with her puffy cheeks ad spatula in hand. He finally lands on the chair beside Kate’s, a piece of bread in his mouth.

“By the way,” he says through a mouthful, “Have you heard?”

“About?” She prompts, sipping her tea.

“Tess,” he says, “the new maid.”

“That’s news to me,” She hums, “Is she taking over in the west wing?”

He shrugs, and absently reaches over to Kate’s cup to sip from. “Could be,” he gulps. “But rumor has it she’s going to be allocating chores with you.”

At that, Kate forgets about slapping his hand away and keeping from sipping from her cup again. “Did Mr. Walter say anything about this?”

Fajr flicks his eyes at hers. “It’s probably just talks. Don’t you think that if that was true, they’d have told you?”

She quirks a thin smile, “true.” After a vague pause where her mind dredges up the horror of something like that happening, she pokes Fajr around his temple. “We can go out together at this upcoming weekend.”

He finishes the last piece of his bread and nods to her in vivid assortment. “I can’t wait.”

 

Returning to the master’s bedroom after about an hour, Kate stands by the door just taking in the lingering aroma of Sir Integra’s perfume, the bitter odor of bourgeois cigars, and the tangled bed sheets. She is hit by the realization that she cannot give this up to anyone, and if Mr. Walter decides Kate should share chores with another main, she will not keep quiet.

 

*******

 

“W- wait… sir, please wait...!”

The water gushing down from the shower spray thins out Kate’s helpless whimpers as Sir Integra slams her hips against her maid.

“I’m stopping when I need for you to suck me off.” Sir Integra rumbles inside Kate’s feverish ear.

Kate’s fuzzy brain indistinctly remembers her going up to Walter after the rumored maid made it to the mansion around four in the afternoon, and demanding an explanation; to which he shrugged dismissively, telling her they were orders from the master. It also shows her mustering the courage inside the master’s bedroom while the latter was bathing, and asking if the new maid was a replacement. She should have realized things would end up like this when Sir Integra drawled, ordering Kate to undress outside and step in.

 

Kate plasters her hands on the tiled wall, her breaths condensing it after mingling with the effusive steam. “Oh, God!” She cries out, delightfully. “Right there, sir! It’s so good.”

A rough hand on the side of her face plants her into the wall the longer it presses more on it, immobilizing her. “So fucking good…” Kate mewls through gritted teeth. “God!”

One more round in the same position and the cock gets yanked out, causing Kate a large intake of a surprised gasp. She gets maneuvered to the tiled flooring, her knees on it and her mouth facing the veiny cock that’s been pleasing her. Although she wasn’t looking forward to it, she finds that a part of her is edging her to as a guarantee, and she has yet to figure out the meaning of that.

 

She hacks into the palm of her hand, one eye cracked open as she watches what Sir Integra will do next. The master only pecks out a small towel from the linen in the corner, wraps it around her narrows waist and steps towards the door.

“Wait.” Kate yelps. “You haven’t answered my question yet.”

Sir Integra looks over her shoulder. “Who I hire in my house is my business.”

“I know.” Kate’s eyes land on her wet thighs as she is still kneeling. “I just, I want to be sure, I guess.”

“She’ll be appointed to a different job,” the other drones, hand on the knob –Kate’s eyes snap to the other’s– “Does that mean…”

Sir Integra’s blank stare remains connected with Kate’s before she finally opens the door and leaves altogether. Kate is hysteric after that as she chuckles alone in the bathroom.

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

 

 

Kate ups the steps that wind up in a smooth curve, with folded napkins between her arms and chest, and she takes in the heavily armed unit of soldiers lounging by the arched entryway of the upper floor; two of them are leaning on the handrails and looking down the bustle of the other maids and personnel. Three are sprawled on the floor with their heads pillowed by their bags, sharing a laugh about some in-joke as though killing time until the enemy decides to drop missiles. And one is leaning back on the wall, he’s bigger and he’s smoking a cigarette.

Kate stops in her track, a hand on the handrail post and the other still hugging the napkins to her chest. She eyes the one standing at the back, he looks in his early 40's, he has light stubble, and she notices the gnarled side of his face, like it was melted.

He seems to prompt up at being stared at by a maid, and so he bellows. “Want me to give you a fucking picture?”

She hums with eyes looking uninvolved. “You better have an ashtray for that.”

To spite her, maybe, the man takes the end of the cigarette and squashes it against the wall, earning laughter from his friends who look back at the maid, anticipating her reaction.

Kate lowers her head; she wasn’t instructed on how to deal with scams, and what makes it even more jarring to know is that these men are here on business. Getting in the wrong foot with them might affect whatever work they’re doing for Sir Integra. She realizes that what the man just did was a plain display of disrespect, and if he doesn’t respect this house, that means he won’t respect its owner either. Kate believes that it falls on her to draw the bigger picture for them here; if you’re willing to accept a job from this organization, then you better take a second to correct your attitude.

Kate walks up to them, and she doesn’t fail to notice their guarded posture which bespeaks their experience in the battlefield. Finally stopping by the scarred man, she motions at the wall with her chin. “Could you please clean that?”

“Don’t wanna.” The man’s voice falls gratingly on her ears. “You’re the servant.”

“I don’t serve you.” Kate drawls, “Now, could you please wipe that off?”

“What kind of maid are you?” The man snaps, “Making the guests do your shit-cleaning work.”

“This part of the mansion has already been cleaned, but by being an irresponsible prick, you’ve given the maids an extra work they never even needed to do.”

Offended, the man clasps a hand at her collar and pulls, barking at her face. “Try saying that again, sugar.”

Another soldier comments, sounding irritable, “That’s some hospitality, I expected no less from the Hellsing organization.”

Kate whips her head at him. “Were you expecting us to shrivel up and take your street gangs attitude?”

“This whore!” Another seethes.

“So” Kate resumes, much calmer now. “Let me repeat myself to your bunch of foolish baboons, clean off the wall.”

She feels a hand touching her rear and fondling one of her ass cheeks, and her reaction is immediate after that as she drops the napkins and slaps the assaulter until her hand stings.

Infuriated, the man with the half melted face wraps his fingers around Kate’s neck and squeezes. Kate’s fearful eyes fall on the bigger man’s, and she flails her arms in an attempt to knock him off her space but she fails. The others’ commotion rises with their contradicting wooing with ones sheering on the man to teach Kate a lesson and others asking him to let it go; they can’t even agree on something like this.

“What’s going on here?”

Kate feels delighted at the sound of Walter bringing this act of barbarism to a stop. She feels the hand unwinds and she slumps to the wall, gasping for air.

“Just in time,” the scarred man muses, “this one is nasty. She talks back.”

“She even called us baboons.” Another defends.

“This is certainly not the type of service we expected from Sir Integra’s hand-picked workers.”

Walter approaches the scene, and his heavy-lidded eyes travel to the girl coughing beside the wall. “Miss Kate?”

She looks up, “I can explain.”

“You’re dismissed for today,” he says, his curt voice final. “Apologize to these gentlemen and leave.”

Kate’s need to clear up the misunderstanding makes her lose her coolly attitude, “But, Mr. Walter, they started it.”

“That’s what I call unprofessional,” A soldier comments, now tapping his friend on the shoulder and gesturing at the girl.

Mr. Walter looks away from them and glares at the maid.

Conceding his order, she bows fleetingly to the soldier with a muttered sorry rolling off her tongue, and then she scurries away. Kate doesn’t make her way to her room as expected of her, but she goes up the stairs towards the brick oriel window, and finding light shedding inside through the glass as though an angel has descended, she hobbles towards it with every fiber in her trembling.

Kate has learned to include silent pleas into her inner struggles, wishing for a greater power to give her the strength to stay strong.

As a layer of clouds floats up in the vast sky, it shoals the golden rays, replacing the warmth and leaving only uncertainly in its wake…

 

 

Kate remains in her room, nursing her ego and fueling her anger at the man who dared to touch her, for almost half the day until she is finally called in to Sir Integra’s office. There is nothing she can say for herself, although her intentions were good, the way she handled it was just like that idiotic lummox said, it was unprofessional. With her shoulders drooped, she stands before the familiar door; she’s already changed into her usual wear so she doesn’t know if her coming here looking like a mess was the right choice or what.

Kate ends up knocking on the door eventually, and then stepping in. The scent of cigar, as usual, slams against her nostrils but she doesn’t find it the least bit annoying; somehow, Sir Integra’s fondness of cigars has made her special in a way, and Kate smiles secretly to herself at the thought.

“Good evening, sir.”

Sir Integra’s cheek is leaning on gloved knuckles, and the other hand is typing away on the laptop placed in front of her on her desk. Her frame is shaded by meek sunbeams, and whatever she’s looking at on the computer is reflected on the glass of her round spectacles. She looks up for a beat, removes the cigar from her mouth to tap the burned parts on the ashtray, before returning it into her mouth again.

No words are forthcoming, Kate realizes after almost ten minutes of waiting on an admonishment that hasn’t come yet. The silence gets interrupted with the white home phone ringing, and Sir Integra picks up the call. As that happens, Kate rotates her head, taking in the place and the portraits hooked to the wall. There’s one closer to Sir Integra’s desk of a blond man, whom she knows as the late owner.

Sir Integra’s tone becomes edgier and angrier as she tells whoever on the phone to always ready their arsenal, and that war does not have a debut date, it could happen any day any time.

Kate listens in intently, and she is then reminded of a fable she heard at a young age of a fox and a wild boar. She chuckles faintly, but, apparently, the forever vigilant master picks up on it and then they’re staring eye to eye.

Placing the phone back, Sir Integra draws, “What’s so funny?”

Kate’s cores become imbued with a sense of odd familiarity, and that is so weird and wonderful at the same time that she finds solace in it. “Um, no” she says on another chuckle. “I just remembered a little fable my father used to recount.”

The other takes another prolonged whiff of her cigar, and motions for Kate to continue.

Kate recurs to her story, “A Boar stood whetting his tusks against an old tree. A Fox happened to pass by, and asked him what he meant by such warlike preparation when there was no enemy in sight. “True enough,” replied the Boar, “but when danger does come there will not be time for such work as this. My weapons will have to be ready for use then, or I shall suffer for it.””

Gracefully, Sir Integra leans back on the backrest and puffs out plentiful smoke. “Apparently he also skipped on telling you to keep your nose out of people’s business.”

Realizing her misdoing, Kate’s smile falls and she gives a sort of a jerky nod. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“Walter tells me you’ve been at one of your wild escapades, again.” The master says with a somber twinge in her voice, as though she’s fed up with the retaliation and wants it to be over with already. “You’ve caused my guests trouble, and what’s more, you even dared to physically hurt one.”

“That’s…” Kate sees the severity of the situation Sir Integra is trying to underpin here, but, shame, she’s only sorry no one witnessed what happened to have her back. “I’m sorry.”

“You can save your sorry for your next boss.” Sir Integra says dismissively and returns her attention to her laptop. “Grab your things and leave my property.”

“Aren’t you even going to listen to my part of the story?”

“I’ve heard enough,” She replies, “you assaulting my guest draws the line to what can and can’t be forgiven.”

There really is nothing else besides that being said; Kate has become a liability, so she is being replaced, what’s so hard to understand? She’s always known it, since the day that second chance was bestowed upon her. She’s been walking on egg shells, but she’s finally managed slip and fall.

The times she opened her legs for the master weren’t and will never be as special to the said master as much as they are to Kate; she first noticed it when the recurrence evolved into a pattern with Sir Integra never facing her during sex or kissing, not since the first time.

Kate should have realized something wasn’t right with that –Sir Integra looks up again, her brows furrowing deeper.

“ _Well_?” She prompts.

Kate strengthens her resolve with every whimsical wish she still has, and she takes a step forward, and another and another, until she is standing next to the master’s desk. “Alright, I’ll leave.” She said, and it was the truth. Just because she wants to stay here, doesn’t mean others are willing to bend to her wish. She has to earn it, and, obviously, she failed to. “One thing though,” she tacks on, unfazed by the icy glare aiming her. “Hold me.”

Sir Integra’s glare falters for a flashing moment, morphing into quizzical brows arching up in wonder.

“You heard me,” Kate insists, her cheeks becoming flush as she works on undoing the belt of her gown. “I want you to erase the feel of that bastard’s groping, and I want you to hold me until the sun comes up.”

“Why would I ever indulge your whims?”

Kate flusters for a good reason, her small fists clenching at her sides. “I gave you my first time,” she determines, “I think at least I deserve something in return.”

 

It’s been so long since last time she looked up and found Sir Integra’s eyes peering down at all of her. Kate’s lying on the master’s desk, getting pounded into in missionary position. She’s wrapped her small hands round Sir Integra’s arms that are taut at each side of her head.

“Ah, _mm.._.” She moans, the feeling of her master’s cock drilling deeper into her is so heavenly that no words are uttered. She remembers starting this off feeling exposed and a little ashamed at having her legs spread like this by Sir Integra’s burly arms.

Kate rolls her head sideways, trying to overcome the scents wrapping her master that are making her feel faint. She whimpers as though she’s on the verge of crying her eyes out, as though, instead of this spiking pleasure making her drown in ecstasy, there’s only pain, and she understands the source of it. It isn’t physical, that much she knows. She is also aware that, having been previously informed of her departure, that her and Sir Integra being conjoined by the latter’s cock and embracing each other like this is the last time it could ever happen.

Kate may be whimpering in pleasure, but she can’t deny the stabbing sadness in her whines at knowing she can never have this all to herself again.

She sniff; her attempt to rid of the tears burning the corners of her eyes, and lifts off of the wooded desk surface to wind her arms around Sir Integra’s shoulders, burying her face in the bulky neck. “Never,” she mutters through her gasps and moans, “I will never forget you, sir.”

The other’s thrusts come to a brisk stop, before resuming again, their steed growing rougher and becoming harsh pistons that make Kate cling even tighter and, instead of moaning her pleasure sweetly, she screams in despaired cries.

“Sir!” she mewls, raking her fingers through the golden strands and gripping, as though the thought alone of never being able to touch Sir Integra again is causing her unbelievable anguish. “God, I’m going to miss you” –she hiccups on another gasp as the cock pushing against her womb sends more zapping tremors coursing through her petite body– “going to, so much, so fucking much.” The tears she’s been trying to hold off come pouring down her cheeks, spilling and soaking her brown hair.

Kate sees flashes of blinding light after Sir Integra ejaculated in her womb, filling it to the point it deforms the shape of Kate’s usually flat belly, causing the girl to cry out in delight.

 

A knock –Sir Integra’s thrusts come to a sudden halt, and Kate’s sobs recede with her red-rimmed, doleful eyes snapping at the door at the side and returning to look at Sir Integra– the knock returns, more spoken this time.

“Sir Integra,” Walter’s disembodied voice soars past the wooden door. “There’s something you need to see.”

“Can’t it wait?” The master grumbles, “I’m busy.”

“I’m afraid it can’t,” Says Walter, in an anxious voice.

Sir Integra returns her attention to Kate, finding the girl shaking her head.

“He can’t come in,” she yelps, “He can’t see me like this!”

“He’s my most trusted employee,” Sir Integra says, and it clearly sounds like she’s trying to calm the girl down. “He holds no judgment towards people, and certainly not against something like this.”

Nibbling at her bottom lip, Kate shows blatant demureness before clutching at the lapses of the master's green jacket and hiding her face in Sir Integra’s neck again, and with that giving them the OK. The most amazing thing –most beautiful thing however is the way Sir Integra encircles Kate in her arms before allowing Walter in.

The door opens, and the room that has turned dark suddenly, is again shed with the light coming from the hallway, it soon disappears after the man closes the door after him

“Oh, my,” he says upon seeing their figures huddled together, “I’ll make this quick then.”

Kate’s body is racked by shudders every time the cum from the cock nested deep within her leaks down her rim in a hot trickle. She sinks in the heat surrounding her from the firm body holding her dearly.

“It seems I misjudged the situation, sir.” He starts, and adds “George might have been in the wrong.”

“Go on.” The master orders, and she rights herself atop Kate who’s still hugging her for dear life.

“I looked at the CCTV and took witnesses' account, it seems that George was being his rowdy self –which isn’t new for him– and he didn’t take kindly to a maid ordering him about.” Walter fixates on his master, his expression schooled despite the scene before him. “I’ve brought the video just to be on the safe side” –he tosses the chip their way but Sir Integra manages to catch it midair– “make sure you look at it before you decide anything.” He bows slightly. “I must go now,” he says, “Enjoy your evening.”

As the clicking of shoes on panels fades away and finally disappears behind the door, Kate leaves the cacophony of warmth to look up again at her master, who faces downwards and eyes the SD card in her hand.

“What’s that?” Kate inquires, her hands still fondling her master’s head.

Sir Integra inserts the card in her laptop and plays the video that pops up. And Kate cranes her neck to watch as well how the small box on the screen shows her squabbling with soldiers by the stairs, and that’s when she realizes that Walter must have been talking about the commotion she caused earlier today.

Fleetingly, Kate glances at Sir Integra’s face, and a part of her fears what might follow because this video contains stone hard evidence of her assaulting a guest.

The video comes to a stop, and Sir Integra closes the lid of the laptop with a quick swipe of her hand. She looks down at Kate again, her hand going around the crown of the girl’s head.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Saying so, Sir Integra drops her forehead gently on Kate’s. “Or, you know what, never mind.” She blows a weary sigh. “It’s a good thing he double-checked; otherwise, I’d be hunting for someone with a body compatible to mine like yours.”

The elation overspreading Kate’s face is a great testament of how those words delight her to no end. “Does that mean I can stay?”

Sir Integra nods, and her sapphire blue eyes are so mesmerizing in the dim illumination.

Kate’s tears now are of joy, as she pulls the other’s face closer to hers and connects their lips together.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Put in mind that the vampire in Hellsing was introduced as Alucard, and he himself said that that's what he's called. It's only natural that the name Dracula would sound odd in canon.

 

 

Unlike the earlier happenings, lately it seems that Kate has fallen from fortune’s favor. After what transpired within the secrecy of the four walls of the office and the two bulky arms of her master Sir Integra, she had thought that more romance was in the offing, but that proved to be too wrong to the point of being too much.

Kate is still appointed the same chores, still allowed to the master bedroom despite Walter’s sideway searching stare which she finds directed at her whenever she looks up from what she’s doing. God, it’s been almost a week and Sir Integra hasn’t made it to her room yet. Word has it that a new big threat has been causing mayhem, but Kate has long since jumped out of that boat and it no longer concerns her. What concerns her, however, is her master’s comfort.

Kate isn’t quite positive –and doesn’t think it wiser to nurture any hope she has of her and Sir Integra becoming more than what they are; circumstances change every single day. She believes that her ability to make Sir Integra comfortable and satisfied is not something to be belittled, nevertheless, and that her qualities as a person aren’t to be taken lightly either.

 

One of her good qualities is that she embodies the virtue of patience, which almost hits the wall when Fajr comes up to her in the afternoon and apologizes for he won’t be able to go downtown with her. Fajr is an idiot, he’s a promise-breaking jerk and Kate shouldn’t have trusted him or his word; but do you know what else he is, he is also a good-hearted man and the way he holds both of her hands to decline her invitation to go downtown tells her how genuine his intentions are.

Kate decides to go out by herself since she’s in need for a few things which she has already marked on her list, but she doesn’t count on Tess, the new maid who was appointed to the west wing of the manor, asking if she can tag along since she is also trusted a list of grocery she isn’t expected to fail in purchasing.

 

Kate shuts the water gushing down from the spray, and steps out of the glass box with a towel wrapped around her petite body. She stands by the bed because that’s where the closest socket is, and she gets the hairdryer on.

There’s a small stone pot on her table, from which a single purple blooming flower is displaying its brilliant green leaves, and Kate wonders if it was the right thing to buy that. She couldn’t help it, though, when she saw how the leaves started to curl up when the vendor touched them, like they were shy to be nudged.

 

Having dressed warmly and styled the hair into a braid, Kate lifts the flowerpot and exits her room, making her way to Sir Integra’s. She walks the empty hallways, and the only way she can describe the silence clinging to these walls in uncanny. She knows everybody in this manor wakes up early, so it’s understandable that they sleep early as well, but it still doesn’t make the feeling of being alone here less unsettling. She relaxes a little when she reaches Sir Integra’s room, but as she walks in, she bumps to Seras  who’s attempting to walk out.

“It’s you.” Her eyes widen in surprise.

Kate bows her head slightly in greeting.

“Miss Kate,” Walter says, coming out of the room as well, “shouldn’t you be in bed like everyone else?”

Kate looks up at the tall man, into his wrinkled gray eyes. “I will,” she replies, “I wanted to deliver something first.”

“What could that be?”

As Kate considers telling him, a movement inside the room holds her off. She preens into it from the little space Walter’s frame is allowing, and her countenance brightens up. “Is sir Integra here?”

“I believe that is none of your concern, Miss Kate.” He reminds, showing no emotion to the way Kate’s smile falls. “I also cannot let you place that plant anywhere inside the master’s bedroom.”

Seras then leans into Kate’s space, staring down at the pot. “What kind of plant is this?”

“It’s a special flower.” Kate tells the blonde, grinning from ear to ear, very eager to show off her purchase.

“Oh, that’s interesting!” Seras coos, but her beam falls. “But I don’t think you can go in right now.”

Walter, then, cuts them off. “The master needs rest.” He says, “Come back in the morning.”

“Walter,” the master’s deep voice whirs as though its owner is swaying between a nap and a restless sleep. “Just let her in.”

Upon hearing that, Kate glances up at Walter and grins cheekily, before bidding good night to Seras and squirming past Walter and the frame of the door to go in.

“Very well, Sir Integra,” Walter acquiesces, and bows slightly. “Good night.”

 

Kate steps into the dark room, finally discerning the apparition of Sir Integra’s body shape over the edge of the bed, the side she usually sits at, donning a white dress shirt –without a blazer on– and dark trousers, with a cloud of smoke surging around her.

Kate remains standing in the same spot, the pot hugged dearly to her chest.

“What is it that you had to come at this time of the night to annoy me with?” the sliver of enunciation in Sir Integra’s voice tells Kate the master is not in any mood to sit through an entire fucking presentation.

To make it short, Kate shows her the pot. “I wanted to put this on the window ledge.”

Sir Integra’s face slowly starts to become more recognizable in the darkness as Kate’s eyes adapt more, and she doesn’t look pleased. “What is that?”

“A shy flower, sir.”

Perking up, Sir Integra scoffs humorlessly. “Are you mocking me?”

“Why would I do that, sir?” exclaims Kate, now approaching the bed with the pot nudged forward. “You can see for yourself. The vendor said he brought it from somewhere in southeast Asia, and he also said it’s called Makahiya, which means shy, that’s where the flower derived its name” –she forwards the pot again nearer to her master’s face– “try to poke the leaves, sir, you won’t be disappointed.”

Placing the cigar on the ashtray beside the round-framed glasses, Sir Integra clicks the switch of the lamp, distorted light flows, illuminating their surroundings and Sir Integra’s half unbuttoned shirt. Kate goes past her daze at having finally seen her master after a week of waiting, and she shoves the pot even closer to the source of the light for Sir Integra to see.

With a crease across her forehead, Sir Integra brings a gloved hand and pokes one of the leaves, causing it to shrink and fold in on itself.

Kate watches intently how her master’s eyes widen to comical proportions, and, okay, she did think the plant was cute, but her master’s reaction just now was even more. “See!” she gushes again. “Amazing, isn’t it!”

 “It isn’t poisonous, I hope?”

“Not at all, sir,” Kate says in vivid delight. “The vendor also said that a lot of people eat it –not that we are, no, I wouldn’t stand seeing it get consumed.”

“What do you suggest we do with it, then?” Sir Integra’s attention on the plant seems to be receding all too soon as she picks her cigar again, wrapping her other arm around her middle.

“I was thinking of using it as a décor,” Kate says, marching towards the window that always remains open expect during stormy weathers. “I’ll care for it every day, and I’ll keep it in the sun.”

“If you don’t, I’ll have you throw it away.”

Kate reads the master’s concern for the plant in those lines, and it eases her mind like nothing else can. She nods in assurance and, at last, places the pot in its rightful place. Eyeing her handiwork now, Kate lets out a prolonged noise –something between a sigh and a hum, before swiveling around to leave.

“Well, that’ll be all, sir.” Kate says, but makes no effort to actually move her body as the master’s hunched form gets her alarms going off, “Sir?”

 “Leave me.” The other’s commanding voice leaves no room to speculate, and Kate finds that, yet again, she is tempted to disobey an order.

Charging forward toward the bed again, Kate rounds it to get to where her master is perched. “What seems to be the ma–”she cuts herself off when she detects a smear of blood on Sir Integra’s shirt around the stomach area. “Sir, there’s –you’re bleeding!”

Blowing out a weary sigh, Sir Integra says “I don’t need you to point it out for me to know.”

With eyes blown away and anxious, Kate goes down on her knees, her hands pressed to her lap to try to keep from tearing the shirt open and check on the wound. “Let me take a look, please.”

Sir Integra remains silent, cigar belching smoke, and sheens of sweat glistering over her sun-kissed skin.

“Sir,” Kate skids closer. “You have no idea how anxious I’ve been these past few days. There was no one to ask if you were alright, and Mr. Walter would have scolded me if I asked anyway.” She says, now tremblingly cupping her master’s knees. “I need you to be alight.”

As though doing a mental check on her words, Sir Integra remains still and wordless, before finally reaching out with hand to grab at Kate’s forearm, lifting her up and making her land on the bed.

“Wait, Sir Integra” –Kate holds her master’s hand to keep it from rolling up the hem of her nightgown– “your wound.”

“Walter already sewed it up.” The other growls, and the cigar has somehow been placed on the ashtray again, and Kate is being manhandled again.

“You could hurt yourself, please” –Kate tries to prop her head up but the lips sucking on her earlobe makes her weak– “Sir…”

“You can do all the work if you’re too worried,” Sir Integra offers, and that –that really gets Kate’s imagination going wild.

Sir Integra pauses, she leans back on the pillows stuffed between her back and the headboard, and just sits there, her eyes alluring and smirk daring.

Taking the master up on that challenge, Kate slowly sits up to remove her cardigan. She crawls on four, feeling her braid dangling over her shoulder. She ducks when she reaches the area from which she sees the apparent bulge, and she nibbles at the zipper with her teeth, finally managing to slide it down.

“I’ll get to take a look at the injury afterwards though, right?” She reminds her master of the agreement.

“If you make me cum” –Sir Integra’s smirk deepens– “I might consider.”

Rushing in order to check on the wound, Kate takes out the hard cock out of its nest and immediately begins to stoke it. She realizes she doesn’t have time for that, so she dips lower, rounds her lips on the leaking head and takes it all in one scoop. She bobs on the cock, and follows the coaching from her master, but it still doesn’t even stir any reaction from said master.

Just the thought of Sir Integra allowing Kate into the room despite the disapproval of Walter, her most trusted employee, it makes Kate light in the head. She feels a throb down her crotch so vigorous and pleasurable that she can’t stop her hand anymore from sliding down and under her panties.

Sir Integra is obviously fighting back the urge to cum, which makes things hard for Kate, and she grins to herself at the pun.

Kate’s body is heating up to irregular rates and her heart is slamming inside her ears, she inserts her fingers into the wet tightness and mewls around the dick in her mouth at the resultant feeling.  Oh, God, she wants this inside her pussy, and she doesn’t think she can keep quiet with that thought growing persistent.

“Sir” –She flaps her tongue on the slick crown of her master’s cock– “Can we… I want to…”

Purring in feign ignorance, Sir Integra only leans back with her elbows on the pillows. “Whatever you mean?”

Flushed but still very turned on, Kate faces the other’s mischievous stare head-on. “Sir, please, you know what I mean.”

“I don’t.”

Kate takes her finger out and slowly sits up; if Sir Integra is doing this to enjoy torturing Kate, then Kate is happy to oblige in her own way. She drags her other hand over her nightgown, lifting it to flash parts of the mess between her thighs, and she also drags her precum-coated fingers and suckles on them. She delights inwardly at the sight of Sir Integra’s smirk morphing into a frown, and she calls that a win.

“Why don’t you try putting it in yourself?”

Kate might be taken aback by the offer, but she doesn’t let it show because she’s been planning to do just that if Sir Integra continued to tease her. Smirking with triumph, Kate skids over her master’s legs, her knees parted at each side of Si Integra’s torso.

“Remove the dress.” Sir Integra’s voice sounds impatient.

To pay her back for before, Kate stalls a little more, just fondling herself; her breasts, her sides and her neck, before she finally tags at the hems and gets the gown past her head. She hears her master letting out deep sighs at the final reveal, and she feels rough, gloved hands roaming her thighs.

“Put it in now, I’ll walk you through the whole thing.”

Kate follows the order as though in a daze, gliding a hand to her master’s cock and huffing while attempting to put it inside her throbbing pussy. She clasps her hands on her knees and slowly sits down, taking the cock in bit by bit and groaning her pleasure.

“That’s it,” Sir Integra drones, “just like that.”

 

 

 

Breathless, Kate sashays forward, and to stop the collision from happening, she ends up clasping a hand on Sir Integra’s belly, near the gauze, which causes the master to hiss. Recognizing, with horror, what she’s just done, Kate retracts her hands, but her body is weary from riding that rod that is hell-bent on not coming, so, again, she sways forward, hitting her forehead against Sir Integra’s sternum.

“I’m” –she gulps against the panting making her sound like she’s dying from the very pleasure Sir Integra is embedding her body with– “I’m sorry, I can’t. This is strenuous–I can’t.”

Wordlessly, Sir Integra helps lift Kate’s lower body off her cock a little so she can take it out, thick precum spills down Kate’s inner thighs, and she isn’t really smooth about it as the fervency in her actions tell Kate the good news –well, kind of; Sir Integra is about to come, and she either wants to shoot her load on Kate and since when has that been a turn-on for anyone, or she wants to switch their position and the way she’s beckoning to Kate to turn affirms the latter option. It delights Kate to a certain degree, because she isn’t ready to finish this now, she hasn’t come either.

Kate swivels her body so that her back and braid are facing Sir Integra. Her eyes catch sight of The Shy Flower, just sitting there on the window ledge, admiring the hues in the horizon.

“Lean back after you put it in.” Sir Integra says in a smoky voice.

Kate follows the order like she hasn’t woken up from her daze, and slowly sits down on the cock and vocalizes her approval of the fulfilling sensation. She leans back just as told and braces taut arms at the side of her master’s chest level so that they are both looking down at what’s transpiring in their groin area.

Without a warning, two gloved hands land on Kate’s hips and immobilize her, before a tingly, toe-curling rush takes hold of her that Kate can’t help but roll her eyes and jack her head up with her lips widely parted. She feels Sir Integra slamming hard into her with purpose, shoving her dick all the way in to the hilt, and then pulling back to the head and repeating the process at an incredible velocity. 

When Sir Integra pauses abruptly, Kate feels the earlier hold unclenching and she finally gasps, taking a huge lungful and fearing she’d suffocate if she lets it out. “Oh my God!” she shrieks with her eyes narrowed. “Oh, God, that was amazing!” She says after another large intake of air, “Do it again, hurry!”

“Since when do I take orders from you?” Sir Integra hums, chucking her mouth close to the nipple closest to her lips and masterfully takes it into her mouth.

“Sir Integra,” Kate’s voice turns all saccharine and needy, rolling her hips to stir the other up. “I want to feel that again –feel _you_. Please move already.”

Maybe Sir Integra hasn’t had enough of teasing Kate because, next thing, she slips her fingers towards Kate’s crotch but never touching, She snaps her hips again, moving like before just as her fingers touch the hot, wet pulsing clits.

“Oh, fuck!” Kate sobs, propping her head up to watch and that only throws her off the edge. “Yes, yes, yes, _yes_!” she lets out small meeps through her gritted teeth, a hand staying braced on the bed and the other clutching at Sir Integra’s which is squeezing her breast. She needs an anchor, or else she’s going to lose her mind in this scotching heat and whirling ecstasy.

Sir Integra is, without a doubt, fucking her senseless, and Kate has lost the ability to think coherently right now as to how unusual or unlike her this is, and she allows herself to drown more, deeper with every tide of raw pleasure that floods over her with every fervor snap of Sir Integra’s hips.

“It feels so fucking good. You’re going to make me come!” Kate cries, whipping her face towards her master and ravishing her lips that were just so near, at the perfect angle.

As hot juices shoot inside her womb, Kate can’t help the quaking of her entire body as she comes, and it spurts out, squirting like a small fountain the moment Sir Integra’s cock and fingers are yanked out.

Kate’s body sags and she falls on the bed, her legs splayed over her master’s and her chest rising and falling through labored breathing.

That has to be the best sex they’ve had, and, although Kate isn’t really certain what happened towards the end because something _did_ happen, she still thinks this is the best she’s felt in all her life.

Sir Integra’s face hovers above hers, peering down with a fond smile, and, it’s Sir Integra, that’s saying something. “That was a nice little cascade you made.”

Feeling her hot cheeks gaining more color, Kate fights past her intense afterglow to try to sit up. “I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

Sir Integra is helping her up, and, God, even guiding her to the pillows tucked against the headboard. “Don’t worry,” she says, and her voice is deep again and Kate falls a little more again. “It was a sight to behold.”

Pouting, Kate shakes her head on a smile. “That was actually very intense,” she says, “I never knew the depths of pleasure were so bottomless like this.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” The way she grins like a total jerk makes Kate want to press their lips together.

“I was admiring the abilities of my own body.” Kate recounts with drunk-looking eyes, and she feels her entire being drawn to this person next to her. “But you did well too.”

Sir Integra flashes a smirk, and before she knows, Kate is pulling her by the neck and smacking their lips together. There’s just as much passion in the other’s responsive kiss. She feels her master’s hands on her breasts, fondling and squeezing, eliciting more moans from Kate like that.

“Umm,” she sighs sweetly, her arms draped on the master’s broad shoulders. “Your tongue, show me your tongue.”

“We’re so full of orders for the master of the manor today, aren’t we?” Sir Integra says on a small chuckle, and that’s all it takes for Kate to realize, yet again, how great, yet crappy being in her master’s vicinity really makes her feel.

They flap tongues together, and, Okay, maybe she didn’t appreciate the chance that was presented to her before, but Kate wants to touch more, and be touched. She wants to spend the rest of the night just soaking in her master’s scent, sweat and warmth.

As the kiss gradually stops, Sir Integra’s mouth licks down, along Kate’s neck and the young lady can’t help but tilt her head to feel more. Kate runs her hands down the master’s dips, still letting out small moans at being kissed and sucked with a tender care. She touches Sir Integra’s muscles, hissing at how firm they feel against her fingers, and she glides them even lower, but the smudge of blood in the abdominal area brings Kate to a panicked state.

“Wait,” she perks up, “The gauze’s come off.”

“Yes,” Sir Integra drones in that you-only-noticed-now voice, “I did hard pistons on you tonight;” Kate kind of helped the situation deteriorate to this because she kept begging for more and, Oh lord, if the floor could swallow her whole right now! “It was bound to reopen the wound.”

Kate feels her master’s lips still kissing and suckling on a spot under her earlobe, and while that feels really heavenly, Sir Integra’s health is more important. “Wait here,” she instructs, ready to jump out of the bed. “I think I saw a first aid kit somewhere in the bathroom, I’ll go bring it.”

“It’s fine,” her master groans trying to sit properly on the edge of the bed. “Walter can sew it up later.”

Throwing her hands in the air exasperatedly, Kate gapes. “Am I supposed to wait for you until you bleed out to death then?”

“It’s just a scratch.”

“I’m not even going to listen to any of this,” Kate declares, now heading to the bathroom. “Also, you need to change.” She says loud enough for her master to hear. “I’m pretty sure there are enough germs in blood that could kill us both, and judging by what happened tonight” –Kate rummages through the drawers inside the shower– “I can say that you might not see the next morning if you sleep back on what's there.”

“Where am I supposed to sleep, then?”

Kate hears rather than sees her master zipping up her pants. “I’m going to have to change the bed sheets. I can’t let you sleep on my –” she trails off because she doesn’t even know what that was, and even if she did, she has the good grace not to word it out.

“Your what?” Sir Integra waits but nothing follows. “It doesn’t matter, it’s all crusty now.”

Kate peeks out of the door frame, and glares in admonishment.

Sir Integra shrugs at her, “what!” she huffs in accusation. “You know I’m right.”

Rolling her eyes, Kate vacates the bathroom and heads towards her master who is standing by the armoire trying to pick out something to sleep in. She doesn’t know why, but that makes Kate oddly sentimental. “Here, sir,” she holds her master’s hand in hers and leads them both to the crumpled bed. “I’ll take care of everything, so just let me clean your wound first.”

Kate knows –as well as her master knows– that the best this can be is a play, and they’re both saying their lines to entertain the idea. She knows that once she walks out of that door, she’s going to be back to being a servant who does as she’s told –well, tries to, most of the time. When she walked out of the bathroom earlier and saw Sir Integra standing by the armoire, looking like picking a pajama was the thin thread between life and death, Kate couldn’t stop her emotions from oozing out.

 

A moth loops in the air like it’s having a dizzy spell before finally settling on the rim of the lampshade, Kate listens in at the faint, almost purring buzz of the bulb and the coos of distant birds in their nests, probably turning in their sleep or having a bad dream, ones like Kate keeps having when she is back in that room by herself.

She taps the cotton, which she has dipped in a disinfectant, on the horizontal cut on the lower, left section of her master’s abdomen, and shakes her head sadly when Sir Integra winces. “How did you get this in the first place?” she puffs out a little sigh. “You’re, like, invincible.”

“No one is invincible.” The other says, eyes following the moth striving for some heat.

“I think you are.” Kate shrugs a shoulder flippantly.

“Tell me,” the other starts, “Why did you take the book without permission?”

Kate’s hand stops suddenly, her eyes widening as they look up with horror. “I didn’t mean to steal it,” she says, “I swear. I just wanted to read it, that’s all.”

“Walter told me it was a special book,” Sir Integra now props her elbows on her knees, her stare piercing through Kate’s very soul. “Any reason why?”

Lowering her gaze, Kate gives herself a moment to muster some courage, before looking up again, the wound gone forgotten for now. “You might not like the sound of this,” she starts, “but I always heard rumors about the man in red who frequents the basement of this manor, and it always intrigued me. I chose that book because the title –the name sounded so similar.”

“Go on.”

“I read up to a few pages before realizing that it was no ordinary book,” saying so, she resumes disinfecting the wound again. “I was planning to return it, I swear. I have no intention demeaning myself by such a low act like theft. I just, I got caught up in things.”

“You know,” Sir Integra says after a deafening pause, flicking her wrist to lift Kate’s chin, “I’m expected to make a just decision about your theft; the book –the diary has been in my family’s possession for over a century, stealing it is unforgivable, no matter who it is.”

Kate clenches her fists and tucks them over her lap. “I’m really sorry.” She says, “I really am. It’ll never happen again.”

“I know.” The master’s voice is deadpan and final. She slowly takes her gloves off to rub her nape. “Walter isn’t ready to entertain us, however.”

Swallowing briskly, Kate says “You don’t have to lie for me.”

“You’re right, I don’t.” Again, with that blunt finality in her tone. She takes the Band-Aid from Kate’s trembling fingers and does a slapdash work of sticking it over the cut. “But, still, your misconducts have infuriated with my life and now I have to do something.”

“Punish me, then.”

Standing up, Sir Integra reels towards her with a brow arch.

Kate’s urgency to help clear out her name has adulterated the meaning of her wording, and she falls completely silent, having realized what she has just said. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

As Sir Integra skids to the armoire again, Kate is by her side in a flash to help her find her clothes. She gives the master some room and space to change, while she heads to the linen closet to get clean bed sheets.

“I’m not going to ask you to go easy on me,” she says, “I know taking things that aren’t mine without permission is wrong” –Kate removes the dirty sheets from the mattress– “Especially if that thing is so important to you and your family.” She spreads the new sheets on the large bed now. “If you’re lenient, that might cause some uproar in the household and that’s a guilt I’m never going to be ready to shoulder.”

Sir Integra walks up to her, barefooted, and she seems like she dressed herself successfully expect for a few missed buttons. “You’re quite sharp,” she comments, “So, you understand, that you have to clean up the library in the west wing tomorrow by yourself.”

As much as Kate wants to utter her groans at the punishment because no one has been appointed to that part of the manor since Kate started working here, so it’s only logical that she pictures the amount of work and effort she should put in. However, she is grateful it wasn’t anything more drastic than that.

Acknowledging her master’s mercy, Kate bows her head slightly. “Thank you very much for being fair to me.”

Rubbing between her eyes, Sir Integra nods lazily and finally sits on clean sheets. “Now leave,” she shoos, “I need to rest.”

Kate picks her master’s dirty clothes and sheets in a heap and places them beside the door. Last she checked, she was still naked, and she was also still covered in … everything. She needs to clean up if she wants to walk those corridors back to her room. “May I use the bathroom, please?” she implores, “I’ve gotten some blood on me, and the other maids might get nosy if they spot me.”

“Leave after you’ve done cleaning it.”

Brightening up, Kate bows again to show her gratitude, and picks her gown before heading to the bathroom.

 

Dracula was the title of the book she picked from Sir Integra’s shelf. It seemed oddly familiar, and Kate couldn’t resist the pull anymore so she pecked it out like it was a forbidden fruit. The story opens with a young English lawyer who’s on his way to meet a count named Dracula, but this and that and he ends up a captive, until the rescue comes from professor Van Hellsing. Kate obviously stopped reading the moment the diary started to get more detailed, more date stamped, locations, and she knew she was reading something that really happened, which she had no right to.

It’s no wonder Walter pinpointed the missing diary; it’s like a piece of evidence of the Hellsing family’s long line of fighting against the evil forces in this world.

 

When she steps out, she is enveloped by complete darkness. Sir Integra must have fallen asleep, then. The only speck of light in the room is streaming in from the window left open, and Kate is thankful because, that way, she can see where she is stepping.

There’s no way she’s walking back the empty corridors by herself when there’s a cozy bed right in front of her, besides, Sir Integra is sound asleep, Kate is sure she can sleep there without being noticed.

She worms in under the quilt, her wet hair spilling on the pillow and she lies on her side, facing Sir Integra’s back.

“I remember telling you to leave.” The master reminds.

“I know,” Kate says.

“What’s keeping you?”

Kate huddles even closer. “There’s no one there, what if a ghost pops out.”

“I’m not going to repeat myself,” Sir Integra rumbles, “Go back to your room.”

“I will,” Kate acquiesces, just as firmly. “Eventually I will." She always does "So, just for now, please, let me sleep here –next to you.”

And just like that, they’re taken by a restful sleep…

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Book: Dracula - Bram Stoker


	8. Chapter 8

 

 

Kate steps into the master bedroom with vivid flashbacks as her companion, she finds that Sir Integra has already vacated it, which, in all honesty, she’d be lying if she said didn’t pang her heart. Spending the entire night tangled together with her master has made Kate too accustomed to the closeness that fends off her loneliness. But it’s even more than that. Kate feels like she isn’t in the right place anywhere except when she is between Sir Integra’s arms, and it’s torturing her, to know that it can all be taken one day, just like Fajr said.

 

Remembering the vacuuming and cleaning she was ordered to do in the library, which is no longer used, Kate changes location, making her way to the said room with a mop and a bucket, a cloth tucked to the sewed-in belt round her waist.

The knob of the giant, arched door doesn’t give at first, but nothing a little shoving can’t solve. Kate pushes the door open, and an eerie, silent darkness greets her. She scans the room, trying to make out all shapes located before her as her eyes adapt, but the dimness hindrances her attempts. She probes the wall for a switch, but realizing there isn’t one, she breathes out a dejected sigh, carries the bucket and the mop and ventures inside.

Kate finally manages to find the windows, she draws the curtains, and brilliant light gushes in and a cloud of dust surges afloat. She turns around taking in the odd room; there are vertical, arched shelves that reach the top, a chandelier hanging down from the ceiling with all its light bulbs amiss, two flamboyant rugs between the hills of stacked books, worn still, the mountain of chairs, and the desks positioned on top of each other at every corner… and is that a curved staircase? Imagine that.

The spider webs, though, are going to be a real pain to scrub clean.

 

As the hours tick, moving her forward to the afternoon, Kate still immerses in her work. She’s piled everything in one corner and has started with cleansing the walls and swiping at the spider webs; she has also opened the windows to air out the dense dust, and has wiped the shelves.

There are a lot of books to pick from here, and she wouldn’t have to deal with being accused of theft. This is basically a hideout spot, another one if Kate is truthful because she still voluntarily segregates herself in the oriel for some peace and quiet; like she isn’t getting enough of that at this place. Well, it’s a lot about a time to think. She can’t do that running around fulfilling her chores.

She starts tucking back the books into the shelves, using one of the chairs for the upper ridges. Kate’s little break is announced by the arrival of her friend Fajr who brings her lunch.

“Place looks half decent.” He says upon entering.

Kate looks away from the last book she’s trying to place on the bookshelf, but the rickety chair wobbles under her and she almost brings down the entire closet trying to hold on. Fajr is there to catch her in a flash, and she can’t express how grateful she is for that.

“I’d be in so much trouble if this doesn’t get done.” She tells him as he helps her to the floor.

“I can imagine,” he quirks an amiable smile. “Here, brought your lunch.”

She takes the box of chicken breast and boiled beans, and makes a face. “Fancy.”

Fajr picks another chair and insinuates himself on it, with the backrest facing his chest. “So what’s all this about?”

Kate sits on the chair that almost broke her legs, and lets out a little sigh. “I was busted doing something that I shouldn’t have, and hence the change of view.”

He’s already shaking his head sadly at her. “You should be more careful.” He advices, and adds after a pause cut off by Kate chewing on the meat. “So, listen, about what I said earlier.”

Kate looks up from the piece of meat in the box and narrows her eyes suspiciously at him.

“It’s your life, and you’re old enough to decide for yourself. I really shouldn’t have said what I said.” Fajr elaborated, “I’m really sorry.”

She hacks a laugh. “You have no reason to be.” She tells him, “you were just looking out for me, and I understand.”

“I really was.” He tacks on.

Kate responds with a nod of head. “Thank you.”

After another curt pause, Fajr leaps up to his feet, taking the empty box from her. “I have to run now. I’ll see you around.”

She sees him off with a wave of her hand.

 

The rugs can’t stay, unless she wants people sneezing into their books. Kate rolls them and places them outside to wash later. She separates the tables from the chairs, and wipes them, and then huddles everything together after sweeping the floor, and slipping the chairs into the two large tables.

Her work here is almost done.

 

A sudden gale sweeps through the opened windows; it’d have scattered the books, but luckily Kate has already finished placing them all in their cases. The unwonted gust of wind oddly reminds her of her sacred, peaceful times and so she aims the source of it.

She looks out, taking in the brilliance of green carpets surrounding the manor, with pine trees on the hillsides looking like tongues of flames. There are cottony clouds floating unbothered almost too close to the patch of land that meets the horizon.

There’s so much that’s been going on in Kate’s life lately, and, she has to admit, it’s been a little fun. Aside from the things she discovered about herself and the things she tolerates, she thinks that, objectively speaking, this little adventure of her is teaching her a lot. She doesn’t know if she wants to stay here and be a maid; that’s not what she’s endeavored to be all those years. However, the mere knowledge that stepping out of that gate could terminate her contract, and thus finishing any hopes she has left to build a relationship with Sir Integra is usually what keeps her from opening up on the other options she can choose for her life.

Then the words come to her, woven like a spell; she remembers reading those two pages of Girl, and not quite fathoming what the mother was telling her daughter. She had even taken it in its literal meaning, and while that was enjoyable, it was still vague.

Sleeping with Sir Integra has somehow reshaped that meaning.

Kate doesn’t want to let herself go –more than she already has, really. A part of her is dreading the moment where she is chased out. But at the same time, she finds that, more often than not, she can’t stop herself from wanting more when she is held by her master.

 

Dashing footsteps scurry upstairs, trotting like The Highwayman’s horse hoofs; and Kate, startled out of her reverie, listens in till the disorderly haste have clattered by, and then sighs solemnly. The troops are being worked almost frenziedly, and the threat which has wreaked the havoc wanders free still.

Kate has for some time singled out the need for her to do something, make good of the fact that she can wield magic effortlessly and save people with it; yet she isn’t ready to cross that bridge.

Hands, callous and familiar, rest on her hips. Kate breathes out, eyes fluttering shut against all that she wishes not to face, and she enjoys the sensation of her master’s hands touching her, causing her a frisson of excitement. Those gloved hands roam over her belly, fingertips pressing into the covered skin to etch every feel, every edge and every curve.

Kate exhales noisily, pupils sinking under her lids.

Sir Integra’s hands slide up, to the soft breasts, squeezing them with fervent earnest. “You were dawdling.” She whispers into Kate’s ear, and that is enough to make the girl moan like her pussy is being tickled.

Kate’s hands cup the master’s as though wanting to guide them to where and what tingles her the most, her head slowly leaning back, and because she is shorter, her head ends up resting on the other’s firm chest. “Sir,” she moans, and Sir Integra’s response to that is clutching harder on the breasts. “I was –I’m almost done here.”

“Are you?” the master snakes her tongue, deliberately brushing it against Kate’s earlobe.

“God…” Kate throws a hand to her master’s shoulder, gripping it at so she wouldn’t fall; her knees can only carry her for so long with her crotch throbbing so bad like that. As a breeze sweeps over her face, Kate remembers herself and where they are. “Sir, someone might see.”

As silence follows, Sir Integra pinches Kate’s nipples through the fabric of her bra.

“Wait, sir, I’m covered in dust.”

“Turn around.”

Kate obliges like she’s been enchanted, turning away from the window and heedfully facing her master. She places her hands on Sir Integra’s hips, feeling the coarseness of the blazer under her fingers, and beneath that, the heat of Sir Integra’s hard-muscled hips. Looking up, Kate catches sight of the other’s lips curving into a smirk, and it wilts her eyes into slits. She’s grateful for the window ledge supporting her weight, without it she would have toppled over and outside.

Sir Integra leans into the side of Kate’s face, mouth lined against her feverish ear. “You’re not done here,” she says, “I’m so hard right now” –Kate stares at the bulge chubbed up in Sir Integra’s pants– “You have to take care of it –” Kate peers up, face flushed and eyes glistering.  She grabs hold of her master’s lapses, shoves her against the wall beside the window, and presses their lips together.

Sir Integra returns the kiss with the same fervor; her mouth is even more aggressive, like she’s staking claim with every suck of her lips, and sweep of her tongue.

“Umm,” Kate presses up against her master, leeching the heat oozing out with abundance and moaning drunkenly into the kiss. She brushes a thumb over Sir Integra’s cheekbone, and the other clasps around the bulge.

Maybe Fajr was right, but Kate finds her happiness between Sir Integra’s arms, and she doesn’t think she can give that up to anyone.

Two hands squeeze the meat of Kate’s ass cheeks, making her breathe out more moans.

Kate’s hand works on undoing the zipper, which she manages after a couple of tries that led her to whimper at the impediment keeping her from touching her master’s cock; she lets it out free soon after.

Sir Integra stops the kiss to look down, at the way Kate is stroking the head of her cock. “Get rid of that damn dress.”

Kate’s frantic response then bespeaks her desire to be filled. She fumbles with the buttons of the dress but gives up halfway, the sight of the cock, leaking and veiny and hard, it makes Kate woozy in the head. She drops her panties, slick from her own juices. She registers the help of her master attempting to spread the dress so Kate’s breasts are visible.

“Come on,” Sir Integra’s grouse sounds impatient, which is even hotter than her usually demanding voice.

Kate mounts her master’s lap, her knees on either side of Sir Integra’s hips. She grips the base of the cock, and slowly lowers herself onto her master, muscles twitching around the shaft as she sinks carefully down until the whole thing is inside of her. “Oh, my God…” she purrs, “it already feels so good.”

As one rough hand meanders its way to her ass again, and the other to her breast, Kate sits there, evening out her breathing for a moment. She looks down through narrowed eyes, treating herself with the sight of Sir Integra’s blushed cheeks and slightly parted lips.

“I’m going to move now,” she says, her forehead tapping against Sir Integra’s. “Don’t let me fall.”

Taking a deep breath, Kate drapes her forearms on her master’s shoulders, and raises up very slowly; the action of the slide and grip of her pussy on Sir Integra’s cock make said master’s groan prolong.

“That’s it,” she coaches, both her hands wandering over Kate’s back and causing the girl to shudder at the ticklish feeling. “Squeeze the head when you move.”

Kate delights at the fact that she isn’t being glared down to do this; it genuinely feels like they both will enjoy what they both want. She rides her master, her head tilted back and her muscles flexing in her upper thighs. She feels her head being pulled from her nape, and then lips forcefully plunder hers.

“Yeah,” she pants wetly as their tongues flap on one another. There’s a wet squelch coming from where their bodies are connected, it gets replaced by hollow slaps of skin on skin when Kate speeds up, fucking herself onto her master in earnest. “Touch me, please, I want you to…”

Sir Integra grips at Kate’s hips and shifts a little so that the angle doesn’t tire her, and then she snaps her hips, slamming into Kate’s pussy with vigor and enjoying the whimpers and little whines that follow.

Kate hides her face in the crook of her master’s neck, moaning into it without a thought to the world just outside this window. “So deep!” she hugs the other so tightly. “God, Sir Integra, need it, need you!”

 Said master lifts up completely, nook of her elbows under Kate’s knees. “Hold on tight,” she says, and adds on a scoff. “We don’t want you to fall down, now, do we?”

Letting out a small chuckle, Kate wraps her arms securely around Sir Integra’s neck and holds on, and it’s worth it as she curls on her. The pistons from the cock that pounds her pussy render her speechless, that almost her moans become a language. She rakes fingers through Sir Integra’s rich hair, and nibbles at the sun-kissed skin of her neck.

“Fuck,” Sir Integra hisses, fucking herself deep into Kate, her pants quickening and falling gruffer the closer to orgasm she gets. “I’m going to come…”

Kate only bares her teeth, before sinking them into the sweat-beaded skin. Following that, she feels the master’s gushing, hot cum shooting inside her womb, filling her to the brim that, when Sir Integra’s cock shrinks out, cum comes pouring out and pooling at the floor.

 

 

 

 

There’s a long spell of silence, cut off by shallow, fast sighs and heavy-footed scamper of dutiful soldiers. It sounds as though it’s coming from every place, but Kate knows that it’s just the resonation since this mansion is too big.

She is straddling her master’s lap, her forearms still draped over Sir Integra’s shoulders and her forehead on the other’s collar as she keeps trying to get a rein on her quick panting. “Like a troop of Don Cossacks.” She mutters, snuggling comfortably against Sir Integra’s chest. 

“That’s an unusual part of the history for a maid to know about.” Sir Integra comments, and the most amazing thing is her hands that are caressing the length of Kate’s back.

Said girl purrs into her master’s ear. “I’ve read all of Vasily Tatishchev’s works,” she says in her defense, feeling a hand going to her scalp and stroking it. “I also know it’s impossible for a soldier majoring in artillery and engineering to end up as an ethnographer; being a maid doesn’t mean there’s a limit to the knowledge I can acquire.”

“Alright,” Sir Integra says, “Does that mean you aren’t going to stop stealing from me?”

Kate props up, eyes wide and even amused, “I never stole from you; if I stole every book I read, I’d have my own store by now.” She insists, her pupils roaming on Sir Integra’s.

The latter’s silver voice deepens when she chuckles next, “Fair enough.”

“So what is going on, really,” Kate drawls, “It’s been like this for days now.”

“Nothing you should worry about.”

“Easy for you to say,” Kate heaves a sigh. “I heard rumors about this place falling under attack in the past, and it’s causing a lot of uproar downstairs.”

Sir Integra remains silent.

“Just” Kate rephrases so she wouldn’t come off as anything Sir Integra doesn’t approve of. “I just want you to tell me if we’re safe here.”

“My security is impenetrable.”  The master states with an air of finality. “If that doesn’t suit you still, you’re free to leave.”

Kate’s eyes flick to the other’s lips before looking up, her own smile faltering a little. “I don’t want to leave. I don’t think you want me to leave either.”

“Alright,” Sir Integra says simple, and adds “It’s my wish, however, that you stay away from the main office; reason why I had you clean this library is so that we avoid falling into the same rut.”

Kate takes a moment to let the input sink home, before beaming at her master. “I’m quite fond of the idea.” She gushes. “Thank you, so much. Rest assured that I will never misuse this room.”

“Of course you won’t,” Sir Integra said, “I’m not doing this out of the goodness of my heart. I can’t have Walter glaring down at me every time –”

Kate cuts her off when she brushes their lips together. Kissing is great, but kissing with Sir Integra is something Kate can really get addicted to. She presses up against her master, savoring the heat that comes off the firm body, she frames Sir Integra’s cheeks like it’s the most precious thing, and moans into the kiss, because  _this_  is doing good things to her pussy, and also because she wants to see if she can incite Sir Integra with just the power of her lips and tongue.

The tan-skinned master indulges her, kissing her back with even more vigor, her hands one squeezing Kate’s boob, and the other digging fingertips into her hip.

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Book hinted: Girl by Jamaica Kincaid


	9. Chapter 9

 

 

 

Like the tracks of horses’ hoofs deeply dented into the ground, Kate believes that her existence and company are slowly being etched into her master’s memory, and that said master will come to recognize Kate as someone a little more special than the rest. She is hoping she isn’t establishing a relationship where only her feelings are invested, are the only fuel keeping this ship sailing, because she is aware she isn’t much worldlier than the people Sir Integra relies on in times of battle, like the two vampires, but she is a source of comfort, she assumes, and that alone is a power.

As the night falls, Kate wends her way to her master’s office, willing to provide that comfort and relish the thought of her words and body consoling Sir Integra in this turbulent night; apparently, another body has been found, and the killer was still free.

Kate has assumed her master was stewing in her office, thinking over the barbaric killings and somehow shouldering the ruinous blame and responsibility which Kate knows no one is going to volunteer to take on. She doesn’t want her master tormenting herself for those deaths; Sir Integra has been doing her best to stop the killer from dropping more bodies, but sometimes some battles are just hard to win, and there’s nothing shameful or disgraceful about that.

Kate finds her master standing by the window in the dark, hands in pockets and shoulders slumped. She grinds to a smooth halt, dithering between raising her master’s spirit the only way she knows how and waiting out for the storm to simmer. Blowing out a sigh, Kate, walks up to her master and rounds her so that she is standing between her and whatever she’s looking at through the glass of the window.

“Sir,” Kate says in a whisper, catching the glimpse of a melancholy reflected in Sir Integra’s blue eyes, “I heard about what happened, I’m sorry.”

Those sea-blue eyes don’t waver.

Kate skids closer, one of her hands land on Sir Integra’s hip and the other rounds the neck. “Your task is now more difficult,” she starts, “and this new trouble makes every hour of the direst importance.”

Kate isn’t quite familiar with the apparatus of this organization, but she knows they eradicate monsters and keep the state of blissful ignorance amongst innocent civilians, and she wants her master to know that, as a civilian, she always appreciates their work, whether they fail or not. She doesn’t know, however, if it would be some sort of comfort or not.

In the room prevailed by the heavy silence, Kate plants a kiss to the side of Sir Integra’s chin and rests her forehead on it afterwards. “The death of those men is a painful loss, but sometimes you can’t evade it. People die, everyday, and you can’t stop all of it.”

Instead of more silence like Kate predicted, Sir Integra’s voice rumbles. “Lecturing me about the men I lost, about faith and death? You’re just a maid, your words mean absolutely nothing to me, and you seem to forget that.”

Kate pushes off of her master a little, enough to snap her eyes up.

Sir Integra isn’t obviously done reprimanding. “What gives you the right to decide how precious the death of those men is, or how it should feel for me?” She bellows with a baleful look in her beautiful eyes. “You’d better keep out of my business if you want to keep your job.”

Perplexed at the sudden tirade, and a little thwarted for having failed even to console her master, Kate dips her chin and stills. It was probably wrong of her to speak conversationally like she knew those men, and, knowing Sit Integra’s temper, Kate really should have seen this coming.

She looks up, meets the other’s frown and nods. “You’re right,” she agrees, “I crossed the line, I’m sorry.” Walking past her master, Kate bids her good night. “Don’t stay up, sir.”

 

Surrounded by the privacy of the walls of her bathroom, Kate mutters the words of a spell, hoping it would take her to the assailant that’s been wreaking havoc, and ascertain the cause of the murders

It’s been a while since she resorted to her magic, but this is where she makes the exception. She isn’t breaking the vow; she hasn’t deactivated the seal yet, but there’s magic in her blood still and she can use it if it means the threat would be eliminated.

 

Things have been going well for Kate, oh so well, so what happened to have her taken the field openly against a lamia so adamant on killing her painfully so?

 

After casting the spell, Kate finds that she’s been teleported to the woods. She sagely observes her surroundings, before trudging forward. Relying on spells and not the power that is sealed by her tattoo is honestly a roll of the dice, either it works or not. The odds may not be in her favor, but she already set out settled on helping, and that’s exactly what she’s going to do before the sun comes up and they notice her gone from her room.

Tramping deeper into the woods, Kate feels the dull throb of a headache seizing her, and that’s how she knows that whatever she’s hunting is skulking amongst these trees as well, perhaps wishing to hunt her first. She remembers all her spells, and she knows what they are all used for, so the next spark she unleashes zaps everything around her like a mild gamma explosion.  

Kate pinpoints the resonation of a deep hiss, and becomes more alert. “Come out,” she dares. “Or I will zap you again.”

The sound of fallen leaves being crunched follows her challenge, before a long-haired lady comes into view, clothed in black baggy dress and armor boots.

“That was magic, wasn’t it?” She comments, her smile eerie.

Kate tilts her head. “And you are?”

“Celina,” the lady says, “And don’t call me Celine.”

“Don’t worry. I have no wish whatsoever to anthropomorphize a killer.” Kate counters.

Celina huffs, humorlessly. “You think I killed those men for the fun of it?”

“Nothing justifies murder.”

“Who are you to pass judgments, anyway?” Celine dares, “I smell Arthur Hellsing’s offspring on you. You reek!”

The piques Kate’s curiosity, so she demands “What do you mean?”

The other waves a lackadaisical hand, smirking impishly. “I had a rather pleasant encounter with your master, I must say. Quite the reminder I left on her, too.” She says, and Kate knows she’s talking about the wound. “I’ve known the Hellsings for decades now. I’ve dealt with Arthur before after he did my kin away.” She snaps her eyes at the sound of fluttering wings, but quickly faces Kate again. “Were you smitten by their words –that abomination? I vowed to avenge my kin, and while I was saddened to hear that Arthur was taken out by illness, I couldn’t be more grateful for the opportunity I was given to kill off his spawn.”

“Watch your mouth,” Kate seethes.

Celina looks absolutely taken aback, “You have no idea what’s going on, do you?” She gushes, “You’re being used, just like everyone else serving that cold-blooded monster.”

“The only monster I see here is you.” Kate bellows. “Speak of Sir Integra like that again, and I’ll grill you.”

“Fine then,” Celine heaves a sigh. “Some can’t resist that monster’s hermaphroditic phallus, I guess. I had actually hoped you and I would come to an agreement.”

“And why is that?”

“The Hellsing organization kills our kind without a question. To them, we are vermin; we don’t deserve to coexist in the world.”

Kate chuckles at the absurdity of the words. “If by coexist you mean kill innocent men, then I can see why you’re failing.”

“Those men killed my people!” Celine grouses. “They deserved to die. I’ll kill more. I’ll kill every man Arthur’s kin sends my way, and I’ll make them suffer.”

Just as she undertakes the vow, parts of Celine’s body fuse together and form a wholly serpentine form bigger than the pine trees hemming then in.

Kate leaps rearward, hands palmed out in defense. “Not a Lamia, then.” She murmurs to herself in understanding.

This can actually explain why the victims have been only men so far; this creature is far smarter than Kate’s given it credit for. Judging from the gender of the victims, Kate had assumed that whatever killed them had lured them in first. Most of the men who died had wives and kids, which suggested that the killer was a woman. That, apparently, had been just a cover.

The other creature that can transform into a serpent is Naga, and Kate has never met those. They can transform their bodies into male or female, and that’s how they trick their victim.

The Naga’s tail swipes at Kate, and, since it’s been a while since she used her magic, the barrier she sets is a little weaker than she estimated and she ends up being airborne and finally crashing against the bole of a tree behind. She falls to the ground with a heavy thud.

Groaning, Kate sits up, but realizing that the Naga is on the move again, she quickly zaps herself across the clearing and shoots electrical beams at the creature.

The Naga evades the beam but one that manages to land on the scales over its chest. “Why must you serve a person like Sir Integra?” it growls, “With your power, and mine, we can rule the world!”

“Typical maniac talk,” Kate says, “That isn’t what I want.” She casts another spell, making fire bolts emerge in a round sequence, before shooting them at the Naga again.

This time, Celina fails at evading them, which sends her crumbling to the ground with several burn marks on her body.

Pointing out her win, Kate approaches the fallen creature and stands atop it. “I don’t wish to kill you,” she informs, “but I can’t allow any more of your barbaric acts, either. You have to be put down.”

The Naga stays quite, but the tip of her tail swipes again at Kate’s ankles and knocks her off balance. Her claws dig through Kate’s shoulder, making the girl scream in anguish.

“Don’t be so quick to celebrate.” Celine scoffs, digging her claws deeper. “It takes more than parlor tricks to take me down.”

Looking up from her blurred vision, Kate mutters the forbidden words, the words that can break the seal, and elates at the squall of wind that whooshes afterward, causing the tree branches to clap and the leaves to dance.

“What is this?”

Kate uses the seal’s power to capture the Naga in a grip of magical stripes and squeeze it in. She watches as the Naga squirms in the clutch of this force, and she slowly lifts up, a little smug looking.

“You really didn’t think there was more where that came from?”

“Stop, get me out of this!” The Naga howls. “I’ll kill you, you hear me, Hellsing’s whore!”

“Not if I kill you first.”

“You think it’s over, you think you can stop us?” The Naga marvels. “There isn’t just me, there’s others. And they all wish to destroy your master.”

Intrigued, Kate glares at Celina and barks her orders, “Who are they? Who is sending you?”

The Naga wheezes, before hacking its blood through little coughs and spasms. As Kate continues to shake it for the answers she wants, the stripes tighten more around its scaled body, bursting it at last. The Naga stills and quiets down just as suddenly, the last breath leaving its cold body to deteriorate in seconds into pieces of scales.

Kate takes a moment to replay the conversation, and with horror, she realizes that she may have just set off something bad on the one person she cares about. One glance at her tattoo –the broken seal, tells her that there might be danger in the offing, but with all the power at her disposal, she is certain she can defeat it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A gushing light flashes, swallowing the darkness. Kate covers her eyes as a gust of wind strikes uninvited. A slosh is heard, Kate slowly opens her eyes, finding that she has been situated in a rural area that is not completely vacant. She looks at the ground and realizes that the slosh she’s heard was actually her foot stepping into a small pond of blood. A scream echoes, sending Kate after its sources. She comes upon a place that is in havoc, old cottages gone aflame, shipwrecks afloat along the stretch of the beach, that are too on fire, lifeless bodies lying on the ground and swords, spears, bows and arrows scattered. She sees the giant Imugi sending white spherical energy tangled with a tinge of bluish fire from his mouth, and once those balls touch the ground, they explode and the enemies get sent flying like fireworks in New Year eves. She hears their screams evaporate into the wind. Just then, she spots a man in a black, torn cloak and leaning on a wooden crook, followed by a middle-aged woman in a gown which hems the mud has eaten. A rumbling sound like thunder is heard: an explosion. And suddenly the Imugi lets out a loud roar and slowly fans to the ground, the man and the woman dash to him, with Kate running after them.

“The royal swordsmen have been defeated, there is no hope for this town, let us flee.” The woman beseeches, her hands ghosting over the Imugi’s burnt scales agilely.

“Flee to where?” the man shakes his head, and sags, panting, “We cannot abandon the town.”

“You saw it, too!” She looks at him, imploring eyes on his. “They have weapons that can fly and explode. The Imugi will not last long if they hit him again.”

The Imugi’s body swirls and he slowly jerks up. “I have a duty to fulfill” he tells them, “your concern is misplaced, help the injured.”

They both look at the Imugi with furrowed brows, and then the man holds the woman from her shoulders, rocks them firmly and looks directly into her eyes, “Take our Mina and leave town. Go through the forest and towards the mountain pass so the enemy won’t see you. I will stay here and help.”

“You can’t mean –” she gasps.

He looks down for a second, “It is the inevitable. I cannot hide anymore, they have to know.” He tells her, wrinkles round his small eyes. “Also, I am not using magic for evil so rest assured. Now off you go.”

The wife shares an affirmative with him and scurries away. The man lets out a sigh and rushes to an injured warrior thrashing at the side, he turns the body and asks the man where the pain is coming from, but the warrior coughs blood and it clogs his airway. The other places a hand over his chest and closes his eyes, and light glows from his hand. The warrior slowly wakes up able to speak and unharmed, fetches his bow and his quiver, and bows in gratitude for the man, and the sorcerer goes off to help as many as he can.

Another explosion quakes the earth as it hits the giant reptile. It brings smoke out of the Imugi’s scales and head, and again, he slowly slides onto the ground.

The sorcerer scurries towards him.

“Let me be of help to you,” the man says, “let me honor your duty.”

“I am in no need of a sorcerer’s aid.” the Imugi spurns, feebly.

“Nonsense,” the man disagrees, “I’ll lend you my magic, and you’ll become stronger.”

“Stronger?”

“Yes!” the sorcerer exclaims, “then you can fulfill your promise to the king. However, it is a bit risky in your state. Your body might not be able to compass the energy flow, and you might die.”

“I do not care about risks.” The Imugi jerks up again, “Lend me your strength, sorcerer.”

“My pleasure!”

Once the sorcerer touches the scales of the soon-to-become dragon, a golden light glows from the man’s hand. The Imugi lets out a louder, more alive, hair-raising and spine-chilling roar. He parts his jaws and a blue beam of focused energy strikes like a horizontal waterfall, and his grey scales heal as new.

Kate’s body starts moving forward, as though gliding on imaginary inline skates, and then she’s on the deck of a ship, an enemy’s. She inspects around some more and sees barrels, lots of them. She opens one, this acrid and sour scent, like spent cordite reminds her of gunpowder.

Realizing that there must be more primitive explosives around, Kate decides to toss everything in to the water. A voice, then, rumbles. Gruff yet a little feminine.

 _Don’t_! It says,  _this is the past, what’s done can’t be undone_.

Kate watches as the shipmates take a barrel and poor its contents into a small container, set it on fire and send it on the wing by a cannon.

The Imugi crawls closer to the shore and sends his energy concentrated balls followed by the waterfall of the strange light, and all the ships explode.

 

Kate sees the Imugi’s body lying on the ground, and the sorcerer hovering by his side.

“Rozever!” A girl’s voice calls, “Rozever!”

Kate turns around and sees a blonde, fierce-eyed young girl scurrying to where the Imugi is, and the same woman from before running after her.

“Don’t go there, it is not safe!”

The girl pounces on the Imugi, wraps her arms around him and cries, “Rozever, you can’t die!”

“Mina, what is a girl your age doing in the battlefield?” The Imugi asks, faintly.

“Mother wanted us to leave town, but I cannot go anywhere without you!” She sniffles.

“It’s unsafe here, and I can’t go anywhere, Mina.” His eyelids close for a moment, but reopen when the girl sobs.

“We need to leave, too.” The sorcerer hollers, his voice low but vehement.

The girl bursts into an enormous sob and tightens her hugs around the scales. “He’s protected us all these years; we can’t abandon him now that he’s dying.”

The parents glance up at each other and the sorcerer nods to his child, “She’s right, and it’s partly my fault so please let me take responsibility for it.”

“How?” the two women inquire in unison.

“My magic is now blended in with his blood, so all I need to do is transform it to a new vessel so that he won’t die.” He explains, and then looks at his feet despairingly, “Only, where can I possibly find a vessel.”

“Do you need a container? I can look for one.”

“No, I need a human vessel.”

The three fall silent, and the Imugi decides he doesn’t’ have time for that. “It does not matter whether I live or die, the king has already left the palace and help is coming from our neighbor kingdom. So, sorcerer, take your wife and child and seek safety.”

“Rozever,” the girl pulls back to look into his eyes, “I have been blessed by the most glorious gift, meeting you has undoubtedly changed my life to the better and I shall never regret being your friend, and I wish now that you do not die but live.” The tears blur her vision and she wipes them away with her sleeve. “If you die now, the king will be sad, that’s why – that’s why you can’t die, because the king still needs you, the people of the town still need you, _I_  still need you!”

“Mina” the mother’s tone falls tender, “Rozever is badly injured and we cannot save him.”

“Father said he can transform whatever that is into a human vessel, right?” she addresses her father, “I can be that vessel.”

The mother’s knees buckle under her and she collapses to the ground. Another explosion is heard from afar but it doesn’t seem like Mina and her father are affected.

“Let’s be part of the change, father,” she urges, “let them know that sorcerers are not evil, let us win the battle!”

The sorcerer’s zealous eyes are the last thing Kate sees as she wakes up in a carpet of grass spangled with forsaken flower petals, hills upon hills of greenery, layered by forests which run down the hillsides like a giant spiked fur. A rich, vibrant slop of meadows overlap a stream of gleaming water, protruded by jagged rocks, it stretches on until it meets the horizon and the violet patches that adorn the cottony clouds.

A balmy breeze ruffles her hair, causing it to flap sideways; her resistance against this mind-easing sensation is nonexistent at this point as she closes her eyes to it, but allows every fiber in her to register the delicate touch on her skin.

As Kate slowly opens her eyes, her pupils catch sight of the giant scaled reptile on a cliff across from the one she’s standing on, coiled into itself and gazing back at the setting sun.

“We finally meet.” The reptile’s voice rumbles, gruff yet a little feminine, same voice that banned her from changing the past.

It takes her a moment, but Kate finally realizes what this place is, and what that creature is.

“You’re my Imugi, aren’t you?” Kate prompts, and this place is supposed to be where the Imugi is locked. “Rozever isn’t your name.”

“Rozever was the first of my kind.” The Imugi tells her.

“What’s your name?”

The premature dragon snakes its body on top of that hill, its large scales reflecting the crimson hues. “I was called Gertrude by my late lord.” The Imugi replies, “You can call me anything you want.”

“It’s alright,” Kate assures, “I love the name you were given. It’s yours. I wouldn’t change it. I was also given this name, and I don’t feel like changing it.”

The Imugi rests its chin on the ground and remains silent.

Kate replays the events that have led her to this place; during her fight with the Naga, she managed to break the seal that keeps the Imugi’s power under control. She would like to believe that she had no choice but to resort to its power, but, deep down, she knows this will cost her dearly.

Every mage that was born in her time was to serve as a vessel to two powers. It all started in the early times, during battle, a sorcerer transformed his and the power of the royal family’s Imugi into his daughter’s body, like she was shown just now, and ever since then, only few of his descendents embodied the two magic sources. Those who did served as mages. Kate is now one of them.

“I broke the seal.” Kate blows a sigh. “I had no choice.”

“What you decide for yourself is none of my concern,” Gertrude notes out. “You chose me, so you have to abide by the rules.”

Looking away, Kate curses inwardly at what the deal is going to do to her life. “I know,” she hisses, “I am ready to bear the consequences.”

Gertrude beholds her in complete silence, before looking back at the sunset again. “You’ll set me free when I desire,” the other says, “Meanwhile you are free to use my powers however you like.”

 

A searing heat burns her body, scrapes every part in her insides out like lava dripping on her skin. Kate clutches at the bed sheets, wishing the fever doesn’t eat her up or liquefy her brain. She whimpers into her pillow, a silent plea to escape the pain.

This is just part of the consequences for breaking the seal. In order for it to adapt to the functions of her body, the seal has to work her up, gauge up her endurance and test her pain tolerance.

It’s almost dawn, and Kate needs to leave the bed in an hour or so to tend to her master, whom she is quite certain is in no merry mood to see her after the exchange last night.

The grip of the scorching sensation tightens on her, and she arches her back off of the mattress, biting down on her lip in a poor attempt to try to stifle her cries. The pain doesn’t ebb, and the fortitude of her hold on consciousness loosens as she drifts into a restless sleep.

 

The next bang on her door startles her out of dreadful images of people consigned to the flames. She realizes, with horror, how the malignant fever hasn’t released her yet, and how she must tend to her chores nonetheless.

Katrina opens the door and marches in, hands on her hips. She is one of the maids that serve in this mansion, and if Kate’s hunch isn’t playing tricks on her, the girl and Fajr are starting to develop feelings for each other. Fajr has always been Kate’s friend, so sometimes she really doesn’t know how to deal with this lady’s hostility towards her.

“Have you any idea how late it is!” Katrina exclaims. “Up, come on, you’re being summoned to the main office. Surely you don’t plan on skipping orders now, do you?”

Kate scrubs a hand over her face, but the touch of a thick bead of sweat appalls her and she wishes she can clean herself in her shower before she leaves her quarters. “I’m thinking of taking the rest of the day off.”

Katrina, the black-haired lady, gasps. “Haven’t you heard a word I said?” She grouses, “The master requests your presence in her office.”

Fearful of what might come from this, Kate slowly sits up, and she feels the color draining from her face and more sheens of sweat blighting her complexion. She groans as she moves out of the comfort that only her bed can offer at this minute, and walks towards the chair on which she placed her cardigan the night before.

“You might want to scrub up first,” Katrina crinkles her nose. “You look ripe.”

Compressing her lips into a thin smile, Kate nods and makes her way to the bathroom instead.

 

The lukewarm water has certainly helped, but nothing can really alleviate the dull ache in her head, or the sore joints or the scorching heat. She knows. She dresses herself in beige plain shirt and skinny trousers, and arranges her hair in a messy bun, before finally setting out to the main office.

As Kate stands there by the door of the room, she feels a gradual thumping pound, grinding into her temples and debilitating her the longer she insists on keeping on standing on her legs. She knows she is expected inside, and any lingering would only work her master’s temper more; and everyone knows how irascible the master is.

Kate steps into the office, finding the two vampires rounding the large desk, with Walter standing at the side of it and Sir Integra looking at her computer. Looking past her delirium, and aches, Kate approaches them warily, slight footsteps echoing off her slippers.

“You’ve finally decided to honor us with your presence,” Sir Integra intones, “how generous.”

Kate comes to a stop just a meter away from the desk, her hands clasped behind her back. “I had to clean up first, sir.” She bows her head as an apology.

“Oh, it’s you, Kate.” Seras prompts up, cheerful like she always is. “I haven’t seen you all day.”

It was a little past the afternoon, and judging by the angle of the sun outside these large windows, Kate can tell it’s the evening already. She can’t believe she allowed herself to slip into a half-day coma with no consideration to her job whatsoever.

“I was having a little headache,” she says in her defense, “I slept it off.”

A flash of a smirk catches Kate’s eyes, and she snaps bleary eyes towards the source, finding Alucard, dressed in his forever redder than blood coat, keeping his smirk plastered on. It unnerves her to no end, and what’s more, she knows her headache is because of his powers. The more powerful the other entity is, the more painful her headache is. That’s how annoying breaking the seal is.

“Miss Kate, you’ve taken the day off without any prior notice,” Walter chimes in. “I’ve already spoken to you about taking sick days, but it appears to me you aren’t ready to abide by the rules of this house –”

As a dizzy spell passes, Kate shakes her head so whatever Walter is saying doesn’t get muffled. “It –I wasn’t” –she clears her throat against the nauseous feeling in the back of her throat– “my headache didn’t inform me.”

“Quite a mouth she has on her, doesn’t she?” Sir Integra hums, profuse smoke masking her form on the chair. “You don’t have the privilege of sulking your way out of your job. What happened last night doesn’t give you any right to take a day off without permission.”

With red-rimmed eyes, Kate looks at her master. “That wasn’t –I didn’t do it because of that, sir. I promise.”

Another dull, pounding pain flares in her head, and Kate fears she will topple over and empty her stomach on this very floor if she isn’t dismissed early.

Just as Alucard sneers, walking up to her with his chest puffed out, like he has purpose, like he knows Kate’s deepest secrets, a deafening whistle goes off in Kate’s ears, and the formation of black and white tiles is the last thing she registers before her head hits the floor.

 

 

 

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

 

 

 

Straining eyes stare up at the ceiling of her sunlight-bathed room as Kate finally fights her way to consciousness. The fever has broken down, and her body has stopped aching all over so Kate knows she’s finally out of the woods. She now feels human again.

Lolling her head to the side, Kate checks the clock on her nightstand; it’s one of those that display the time and date, and it clearly shows that there must have been a two-day lapse in the timeline because, last time Kate remembers, it was still Wednesday. Yawning and stretching, she pushes her duvet off of her, and sits up in her bed.

 

 

She vaguely remembers Katrina and Fajr taking turns to tend to her, and that saddles her with a little guilt at having troubled them. Kate fears what she might find if she dwells on what happened after going to the master’s office, so she doesn’t.

Her need for food drives her out of her room after a refreshing shower. She finds Mrs. Marcy in the kitchen, as usual, muttering angrily at things that only mean something to her. She gazes up from the dishes up at Kate, and the fact that the girl isn’t wearing her maid outfit makes her mutters come to a stop.

“Took your sweet time; you don’t look like death warmed over.” She huffs, “there’s pie in the oven, help yourself.”

Nodding in consent, Kate takes out her portion of the pie and sits at the table to eat.

 

Katrina meets her walking the corridor, and the two stop in their track, eyeing each other.

“Katrina,” Kate starts, “I want to thank you for taking care of me when I was sick.”

The other girl flashes a narrow glare before eventually relenting with a heavy sigh. “Don’t thank me,” she says, hands now resting on her hips. “I was given orders.”

Kate’s brows arch up in a silent question.

“You don’t remember what happened, do you?” Katrina soberly rubs at her forehead. “The day you were in the main office, your fever was so high that you ended up collapsing. The doctor was brought in later on that day, and informed us of your state. Tess has taken over your chores. I was given orders from Walter to nurse you back to health; Fajr was just helping a friend.”

Kate has to look down at the floor to make sure it isn’t spiraling, because she feels like she’s reeling. “Tess should be working in the west wing of the manor.”

Katrina raises her hands in the air in surrender. “I don’t understand it either” she says, “in any case, I think you should be ready for anything.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means, and I’m saying this with the utmost respect I can muster for you considering our history, you might need to pack.” She taps at Kate’s shoulder in a poor consolation, before walking past her muttering ‘I need to get back to work’.

Kate’s shoulders tense as she steers towards the main office, wishing to get to the bottom of this; she is not getting kicked out because of her collapsing, which, really, was just the byproduct of her fever. Walter then appears in her way, tall and elegant like always.

“Miss Kate,” he says, pushing his glasses up on his sharp nose. “Follow me, please.”

She considers getting her answers from him, but as they stride towards the front door, her confusion shifts. “Where are we going?”

The man pauses only to tell her, over his shoulder, to keep quiet, before venturing on with Kate demurring at first but scurrying after him eventually.

 

Kate watches with rapt as the car grooves between the arcades, before it finally stops beside the curbs. Looking around, she scrutinizes at Walter who leaves the driver’s seat, rounds the car to her door and opens it.

“We need to take care of your clothes before we move on.” He says as he ushers her out.

Kate steps out of the vehicle, her eyes taking in the glamorous shop font Walter is walking towards; there are stylish clothing displayed behind the glass along with different-sized handbags. She goes after the butler, wishing that he explains to her what they’re doing here, but the man continues to heed no mind to her pleas.

A shorter, chubby middle-aged man dressed flamboyantly comes up with his grin showing all his teeth, followed by two clerks. “Welcome, welcome” he coos, “As punctual as ever, Mr. Walter. I’d have missed seeing you if I were a second late” –he ignores the way Walter lets out a nasal sigh– “Where’s the master’s Cinderella, then? I’m all down to business.”

“You need to watch your tongue,” Walter defends, coolly. “Don’t speak like you’re chums.”

The shorter man places his hand on his chest and compresses his lips. “I’m sorry for my language. You know how highly I respect Sir Integra.” He says and quickly tacks on, “but, oh my day, that bossy attitude is quite attractive.”

Kate, then, is startled by the flashy man being all over her, staring at her from head to toe with a prolonged hum like there’s something he’s searching for and is amused he’s found it.

“Well, hello there,” he beams, “I’m your Fée Marraine, Vector, but call me Vicky.”

Chuckling jointly, Kate takes his hand in a handshake. “Kate.”

“Tell me, Kate” he starts, “how do you feel about becoming a princess?”

Humoring him, Kate returns the dash of banter with ease. “Depends,” she shrugs, “am I going to put on a tiara and meet my prince charming?”

Sneering suddenly, Vector says “even better.”

Walter asks him to pick something for Kate that is not too flashy, or indecent or too colorful. And the clerk perks up, winking at them and motioning to his workers to pick all the simple dresses he has in stock.

 

After trying on a few, the shop owner and Walter both settle on a beige, knee-length, off-the-shoulder, half sleeves dress, with lace patches across the hems. Kate is handed black mid-heel sandals with an ankle strap, and a purse. She finally steps out of the changing room, squirming under their stares.

“Perfect,” Walter proceeds to leave but the shop owner stops him.

“Good, maybe. But I’m not sure about perfect.” He hums with his chin between his fingers. “Becky, bring me my pouch.”

“I’m sorry, Vector, but we can’t exactly dally here all day.” Walter grits out just as the redhead leaves to search for her boss’ pouch.

“Listen to me, Mr. Walter.” Vector crosses his arms over his chest. “You came here for a makeover, and maybe this is enough to please you, but I take pride in this job. I’m a perfectionist, and that girl isn’t walking out of my shop with her hair looking like a rat’s nest.”

Kate grouses at the man, who quickly uncrosses his arms and swivels to face her instead. “I’m sorry, pancake,” he chuckles, now gushing at the return of Becky with his pouch. “Aha, just leave it to me. By the time you leave this place, people will be falling for you like Venus.”

“It’s Psyche, and aren’t you overselling it a bit?” Kate grimaces in an apologetic smile.

Flashing another wink, Vector smiles back at her. “Still, I’m really good at it.”

 

 

 

 

The car finally appears to be stopping next to a bigger building; Kate has tried to gauge up the answers from Walter again, about Vector, and about their destination but Walter isn’t the kind of man you can manipulate into yielding to your whims. Speaking of Vector, he might not have had the right tools for the mission, but Kate’s messy bun looks even more stylish than when she does it. There’s also a little pink on her lips as he insisted on putting it on her so she wouldn’t, and she quotes, ‘look like a wandering ghost’.

Vacating the car again, Kate is shepherded into the building. The echoing chit-chat of these bundles of people around reminds her that there is actually a world outside the manor. She realizes, a little late, that she’s forgotten her purse in the car, and when she resumes telling Walter, he beats her to it.

“We’re expected, but, just for my peace of mind, here’s a little advice,” He says, his feet still taking him forward, while Kate’s are battling with the clip-clop of her heels. “I suggest you try and keep a low profile. Sir Integra is well known, well respected, so any misbehavior from you will badly affect her image as well.”

 “Am I going to see her?” Kate skids closer in a couple of short strides.

Walter stops by a glass door, swivels and holds eye contact with Kate for a moment. “Please, go in.” His hand opens the door and motions at the terrace beyond.

Looking away from him, Kate’s eyes catch sight of blond hair being swayed in the air, a cloud of smoke going with the cold breeze that must have been set out from the ox-skin bag Aeolus gave away to Odysseus. She doesn’t know whether it was some epiphany Vector had, or information he was already told about by Walter himself, but she does agree; this is way better than any fairytale she read, and she’s read a lot.

Kate steps into the terrace, and the breeze enwraps her immediately. She hears the roll of her eardrums, vivid and loud. Beyond the noise in her ears, Kate discerns the sound of a door being closed, and, honestly, she is grateful for that because she was just thinking of bolting out and accepting this is but a mere dream.

As she finally reaches where her master is standing by the handrail, beholding how the sinking sun is engulfing the river and the bridge and the houses surrounding them that look like toys from here with its warm, orangey hues, Kate stills completely.

Sir Integra turns around, facing her. She’s dressed formally, a suit and gloves. And, as always, there’s a cigar between her lips. “Finally,” she drawls, and takes a beat to take all of Kate in until the latter squirms under her stare. “I guess he isn’t in the business for shows, after all.”

Kate knows her cheeks are reddening, she just fears the flushing would reach all the way to her nape if Sir Integra keeps on staring at her like that. “You speak of Vector? I have to say, he’s quite the character.”

“Talented too,” The master adds, “you look pretty.”

Instead of facing away bashfully, and despite the turmoil of her emotions, Kate stands her ground and meets Sir Integra’s stare head-on.

“You aren’t feverish, are you?”

Kate shakes her head. “I’m sorry for the trouble I caused,” she says, however, “Katrina told me what happened.”

“I see,” Sir Integra takes her cigar out and checks her watch. “Well, that gives us about four hours.” As Sir Integra talks on, Kate berates herself to process this all quickly so she can enjoy the moment without fear of what might come after. “Have you eaten yet?”

“Yes, I have. Mrs. Marcy’s apple pie.” She says on a grin.

“Good,” the master nods, “come with me, we don’t have much time.”

 

Walter opens the door as they walk out of the terrace, making their way towards the lifts. Another man, dressed in denim jeans and an insulated gray jacket, meets them halfway with his arm outstretched towards Kate’s master, who allows the handshake.

“Sir Integra,” he starts, “everything’s been set just as you requested.” He says, and motions at the entrance of the building as people walk out. “It is closing time, so take all the time you need, no one will bother you.”

“Thank you.” Saying so, Sir Integra turns to face the door of the lift that opens with a ‘ting’, stepping into it without a diffident glance.

Walter follows, and Kate attempts to as well, but the man’s lingering stare on her holds her back a little, making her dredge up what might make him look at her like that, until the butler prompts her again.

“Miss Kate?”

Said girl steps into the lift as well, striding closer to her master, who’s leaning on the wall at the back, and scoots beside her.

The doors slide close again, and the man’s lingering stare is the last thing Kate sees for the next few minute that feel like a century has just gone by with them three cooped up inside the metal box.

 

As it tings open again, the three of them walk out, Walter tagging behind but remaining close as they walk into the tunnel passage.

Kate is met with a light high in the wavelength, yet low enough that it doesn’t irritate the eyes. Going past the actinic lighting, she listens in the hum of water burbling in giant reef tanks. Sprinting forward with a look of rapt awe, Kate plasters herself against the glass of the underwater tunnel, feeling as though she’s a touch away from being swarmed by all the fish swimming in harmony.

Sir Integra comes up to her, hands in her pockets and the unlit cigar between her lips. “You heard him; no one will bother us here.” She says, “Look all you want.”

Kate whips her head around, eyes blown away by the clear burst of blue light shown on her master’s face. “Are you serious, isn’t it going to be problematic for you?”

“I don’t see how.” The master concurs. “I owed the owner a little favor from back in the day, that’s all.”

Kate feels something in her chest going all weird and frizzy; it may sound awkward, cocky even, to ask this but she feels like she has to. “Are you doing this for me?”

“It’s your birthday, is it not?” Saying so, Sir Integra marches past the girl, leaving her to gawk after her with her jaw slack.

Back on stable ground, Kate looks back at the fish, a smile tugging at her lips.

 

Kate’s been hopping from one spot to another, gushing at the beauty of swimming fish with childish glee. She is aware of Walter following closely behind, but she wonders if he’s as mesmerized as she is, because she is. To the sky and back.

“Sir, come, you have to see this!” Kate yelps as several sea worms emerge from the sand, looking around like meerkat standing guard.

Sir Integra, who is standing a little farther behind, tags closer. “What is it?”

“Look, look! How funny they are!” Kate points at the worms, and hears her master let out an atypical hum in response, she faces her now. “You don’t like it here?”

“I don’t particularly hate it,” she replies. “If you’re having fun, then it’s all good. You are, aren’t you –having fun I mean?”

“Of course I am!” Kate returns her attention to the sea creatures. “This place is amazing.”

 

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Graphic depiction of flogging

 

October 2014

 

 

The clang of the chains hooked to the ceiling brings Kate out of her mare –disturbing flashes of what happened a few days ago with her master by the stream; she lets out a small mewl through the gag in her mouth at how discomforting that incident is, or the metal manacling her wrists. The smell inside this concrete cell is stale, and the long spells of silence make her yearn for a human touch, contact, or anything. But all she wakes up to is a pair of nocuous, baleful eyes, looking accusingly into hers…

 

Her time in the aquarium two weeks ago had exceeded all of her fantasies of how romantic life with Integra would be considering their backgrounds, but said master had somehow made it even more eventful by bringing Kate to a jewelry shop and telling her to pick anything to her liking. Kate had argued, yet quelled when Sir Integra insisted. That was a first. Kate chose a delicate silver necklace with a butterfly pendant, and promised to hold on to it for as long as she lived, which made for care-free, light-hearted sex later that night.

Kate was surprised to learn that Sir Integra’s birthday was coming up in a week and a few, and so, deciding that it was her chance to do something in return for her master, Kate settled on baking a cake and making some lemonade so they could take it while wading in a babbling brook; she had somewhat begrudgingly let Katrina in on her plans hoping the raven-haired would let her borrow her recently purchased top, and had delighted when Katrina eventually gave the piece of clothing away to her, with a pair of shoes that Tess had lent her.

It took a few trial and errors, another few attempts before she finally convinced her master to go on that date with her. It marked the next happiest day in Kate’s life, finally having her master acquiesce to her request to spend the latter’s birthday together even though Walter said that he had been preparing for a party with everyone else.

The spot was only a few acres away from the mansion; Kate had walked to it earlier that week during her day off. They walked into the woods, welcomed by an earthly smell of pine trees and wildflowers. The birds hadn’t ceased to chirp yet, but the quietness offered more privacy than Kate had hoped for what with Walter tagging closely behind.

Stopping by the brook, Sir Integra sat on the blanket Kate had spread on the ground, grumbling about the sappiness of the whole situation yet still indulging her servant. After setting everything down on the blanket, Kate engrossed in the company, the moment and the feelings bursting inside her chest. It felt like a dream.

The moment only lasted for a mere hour before danger clashed at them from every corner, and it didn’t help that Walter had excused himself to leave them a little privacy when they started kissing. The masked people surrounded them, stealthy and silent. Kate didn’t feel any prior headaches that could indicate their approach, and it meant those people were humans.

Kate and Sir Integra levered up to their feet, scanning the people surrounding them with cautious eyes. The master had demanded they tell her who they were, but the answer had sent Kate spiraling to the ground.

“Ask your servant,” one of them said.

“She brought you here to us.”

Kate span to her master, tears of injustice held in her eyes. “It isn’t true!” she bawled, “I swear. I don’t know them!”

The master only lowered her stare for a second, before ignoring Kate’s pleas completely. “What do you want from me?”

“Vengeance.” They told her. “You’ve killed so many of us, don’t you think it’s time you tasted the same misery?”

“You think you can scare me?” Sir Integra had looked entertained. “A bunch of pathetic morons, you think you’ll scare me?”

A curt whistle echoed before Kate’s headache snapped all of a sudden, sending her to her knees. She peered up through slanted eyes, trying to locate where this entity is coming from.

“You’ve done well, Kate.” One of the masked men praised with a tilt of amusement in his tone. “Leave it to us now.”

It only took a beat after that before Sir Integra’s smothered groan was heard. Kate whipped her head around despite the nausea and the pounding in her temples, only to find the side of her master’s neck being gnawed at by a vicious-looking werewolf. Knowing that she had to act fast, Kate also demurred because her magic was supposed to be a secret but Sir Integra was in danger and she didn’t know anymore. Everything was happening so fast for her to handle.

Kate decided eventually that her master’s safety was more important as she sent a shock wave towards the werewolf, making it stumble to the side with a whine. As its fangs were yanked out of Sir Integra’s neck, blood spurted and the master collapsed to the ground, a hand cupped over the bite.

Kate stood facing her, vacillating between ridding of the danger still skulking around, or checking on her master. She beheld the cold glare, grimaced yet lathing. She beheld the crimson blood spilling between her master’s gloved fingers. She panicked.

“S-sir…”

Said master lifted up, groaning yet never taking her hand away from the bite. “You finally did it.” She scoffed, but the movement was caught off by a wet hack which made blood burst out of her mouth as well.

“Sir, I swear, I don’t know these people!” As Kate made to step forward, she grind to a stop when the other withdrew her gun and cocked it.

“You betrayed me.” There was only malice in her voice, and in her eyes.

“The bite’s already in effect.” The man who unleashed the werewolf on her mused, “This is indeed a day to remember!” He sidestepped the injured. “You’ve only a few minutes now. How does it feel, to turn into what you hunt? How does it feel, to be one of us now?”

The gun in the master’s hand was slowly swiveled until it aimed Sir Integra’s throat. “I’m not going to give you the satisfaction, you bastard.”

Afraid that the bullet would go off and penetrate Sir Integra’s neck, Kate sent a force that propelled the revolver right from the gloved hand.

“I’m sorry,” Kate sobbed after the master glared heatedly at her. “I can’t let you do that. I’m sorry, it's selfish, I know. But you can't.”

The glare ebbed when Sir Integra’s eyes widened suddenly, her knees giving out and bringing her down to the ground crashing with the momentum. She let out continuous, garbled whimpers as her body seized.

Facing the strangers, Kate seethed. “Make it stop!”

“It can’t be undone.” The taller one replied. “You might fix a vamp’s bite, but werewolves are different. Nothing can stop it from happening.”

Kate balled her hands into fists.

“We know you killed Celina.” He tacked on with a frivolous smirk. “Consider this a little payback.”

Knowing she was losing options, Kate succumbed to the only thing she could do without any more mayhem. “Please,” she pleaded, “please, you can’t do this. I can’t lose her.”

The other hummed thoughtfully. “Alright,” he whined in feign annoyance. “You might be able to fix this.”

Kate latched at the opportunity, “How?!”

“You have magic, right?” He wondered, and added after she nodded. “I reckon magic is the only thing that can stop the process, use it.”

Sir Integra’s garbled scream made the situation more urgent and Kate didn’t care anymore about the oath. She was reminded of a good spell she had seen a member of her town use to heal another, and she decided to use it, unaware of the strangers’ intention. She cast the spell, but another one of the shrouded strangers cut her off by using his own spell, spoiling its effect.

“You –how could you!” Kate rumbled, seizing the man in front of her by the collar of his completely black clothing. “It’s my only chance! You can’t do this!”

“We can,” the man sing-song, “We just did.”

Running past him, Kate settled beside Sir Integra and bit against permitting her master’s pain to weaken her, she lifted the other’s ridiculously feverish head in the nook of her elbow, while bringing the other hand to the mouth that was letting out small puffs of air.

“Sir, can you hear me?”

Another man approached her, “there’s no use.” He said, “Nothing can stop it.”

Kate’s resolve weakened for a moment, but thinking back on the miracles that her blood is capable of besides creating chaos, she decided that there was only one way to find out as she placed her palm on the master’s mouth, asking her to bite.

The master’s head lolled on her arm, but Kate repeated the order, more firmly now. She could feel teeth sinking into her skin, and while that part hurt, thinking that that would also be futile was even more painful to even consider. She could feel her master drawing blood from her palm and drinking it.

Kate placed the master’s head on the ground again, retreating from the scene with expectant eyes. The movement of the strangers alarmed her, and as they backed away, Kate followed with threats of ending them. They were suddenly gone before she could ask who sent them, or why they involved her even though she had never seen them. It helped because there were now tremors taking over Sir Integra’s body, and Kate only prayed with despair that her blood would save whatever could be saved.

The tremors wracking Sir Integra’s body stopped, she shuffled with a groan, resting on her knees and forearms as her breaths came in shallow.

Kate watched with bare horror how the nails digging into the dirt spurted out claws, how, when Sir Integra tossed her head to the back, fangs elongated from her parted lips, her golden locks slowly turned dark and black patches like Lichtenberg scars spread across one side of her face like a burn scar. When she flicked her eyes around at Kate suddenly, Kate’s breath hitched at the color of the eye that had drowned in the dark patch, looking like faded gray.

She didn’t look like a werewolf, but she didn’t look human anymore either.

Kate placed her hands on her mouth, fighting to keep her small sobs in. “I’m” she cried aloud eventually, “Oh, God, I’m so sorry, sir…”

“What is going on here?” Walter’s bellow startled Kate and the birds chirping on the branches. He tottered towards his master after the reveal, eyes wide and disbelieving. “What in the world –”

Sir Integra’s index was already pointing at Kate. “Seize her!” She roared.

 

 

 

*******

 

 

 

The different-colored orbs keep staring at Kate’s, accusingly. For a brief moment, Kate faces away, taking in the rest of the room which is about 6 by 8 feet in dimension, cemented and dimmer than what is outside the metal door across from her. Her wrists are chained, and the chain is clipped to an iron double meat hook which is adhered to the wall at the very back, far away from the only way out. Her toes practically drag and brush against the cemented flooring every time she tries to stand on her feet.

“Since you’re finally up” –Kate snaps her wary eyes at her master, who is seated on a wooden chair at the door with Walter as her shadow, and relishing the stimulation from her cigar– “Let’s get down to business, shall we?”

Walter walks up to her body that hanging down from the hook, and he undoes the gag from its fastening. 

“Where am I, what is this place?” Kate demands, her tone firm, watching how Walter retreats to his master's side.

“Alright, here’s how this is going to be,” Sir Integra drawls, not much of her expression is visible. “I ask the questions, you answer. Understood?”

Kate’s silence compensates for the answer.

“Good,” the master chirps. “Who sent you?”

Oh, this isn’t happening. Kate shakes her head at the absurdity of the possibility alone. She wasn’t sent by anyone or anything but her own desire to be with this person. She doesn’t find anything wrong with that.

“Nobody.” She replies.

“I’ll ask again,” Sir Integra’s voice falls deeper. “ _Who_ sent you?”

“This is ridiculous,” Kate huffs, tugging at the chains to free her hand, but they only clang at her efforts. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, or what you want me to say.”

Lifting up, Sir Integra stuffs her pockets with her hands and walks up to Kate’s dangling body, loafers click-clocking on the floor. Kate holds her breath; God, she wants to clear this misunderstanding as quickly as possible so she can be with her master again. Said master finally emerges before her, tall, confident, cruel, and beautiful. Kate’s expectant eyes well up with tears, because, she failed; she failed to protect her master from the curse and now half of Sir Integra’s face is not human anymore. There’s that dark patch travelling out from her neck and spreading across her right cheek, and over a grey-colored eye. Her hair is no longer golden, but darkened instead. Her right ear looks a little pointier at the top than its twin. Kate dips her chin, allowing her tears to spill like a dam has been burst.

Sir Integra’s stance is still intimidating. “I want you to give me the name of whoever sent you to turn me.”

Shaking her head on a small sob, Kate whispers, brokenly. “Nobody,” she insists, “nobody sent me. I never wished for this to happen, to you. I wish I could change it all.”

“Do you have magic?”

Kate nods.

“What about the ones who trapped me, do they have magic as well?”

Kate is regretful; she regrets taking her master to the stream, she regrets being selfish and wanting Sir Integra to herself. She should have listened to Walter, should have remained home to celebrate.

“I don’t know,” Kate cries with a small voice. “I don’t know them. I don’t know if they have magic.”

“I’ll pretend you didn’t say any of that.” Sir Integra interjects, her tone cold. “Now, let’s try again. Who sent you?”

“I did,” Kate finally provides the only answer she knows for that question, through a sniffle. “I followed you because I wanted to be close to you.”

A hand suddenly goes up to Kate’s hair, gloved, and grips a fistful. “You better give me more than that,” Sir Integra grouses over Kate’s lips. “You turned me into a thing, you betrayed me in the worst possible way, and now you’re acting like we were lovers?”

Kate’s silently pleading her master to deny. “I never betrayed you. I didn’t know those men were going to be there, I swear!” She adds more despairingly, “I love you.”

The now-raven-haired wenches Kate’s hair and makes the girl groan at the harsh treatment, she steps rearward, her smirk cruel. “What do you know of love, you damned witch?” She huffs.

That only makes Kate conscious of her self-hatred, her over-the-brim self-loathing and how she always wishes she didn’t possess the power to wield magic. People died because of her, an entire town wiped out because she existed, and now she’s causing this person a lot of anguish. “I’m so sorry,” she sobs, tears falling in torrents. “Please, sir.”

“You’ve met Alucard before,” Sir Integra speaks on, paying no heed to Kate’s grieving whines. “I don’t suppose you knew, but he sensed your powers. The only reason you were allowed into my mansion was because we doubted there was something about you from the start.”

Kate’s eyes grow wide and unbelieving.

“We were hoping you’d lead us to whoever is sending his unsightly offspring to cause chaos in the country,” Sir Integra hums. “It appears we weren’t wrong.”

That isn’t true.

None of it is true because the body heat Kate shared with Sir Integra, and the languid as well as deep kisses, and the embraces and the thoughts… they weren’t part of any plan. They were genuine. They happened because Sir Integra eventually started to feel something for Kate, not because her plan was working out fine.

“You’re” –she feels her chest heaving and eye ducts burning with even more tears– “you’re lying.”

“Well,” Sir Integra drones again, “the only one here with a natural talent for lying is you.”

“No, no, no” Kate mutters to herself in prolonged, small sobs. “I –it wasn’t all a lie. It can’t be.” She looks up into the strange set of eye colors. “You felt something, for me. You –this isn’t happening…”

“The only thing remotely close to sentiment which I felt being near you was the stifling knowledge that you were a thing, and I had to indulge you and pretend I liked it.” Sir Integra says, flatly. “Enough with the chit-chat. You might have dropped one on me, I’ll give you that, but you’re my prisoner now. You aren’t going anywhere.”

Realizing that what’s happening isn’t another of her nightmares occurring during daytime, Kate concludes that, for the safety of everyone, hers included, she needs to close the seal. With it closed, no one will be trailing her for a vessel or a taste. It will also keep her from resorting to it if this, somehow, gets out of hand. Tilting her head to the back, Kate mutters the wanted spell under the other two’s watchful eyes, and waits until she feels the warmth seeping across her arm. The sensation becomes more zapping, and she grits against it to hold on, ride it out, until it stops completely.

“What did you do just now?”

Kate lowers her head; if she was really just used, if she was just a means to an end and she isn’t anyone important to Sir Integra like she hoped she was, then she needs to leave. She needs to set herself free, and spend what’s left of her life burying these memories, quenching the fire in her heart and living as though none of her moments with Sir Integra ever happened. But she knows that the moment she escapes, the accusations will have more credibility. As though she is confessing to a crime she didn’t commit, and that’s the last alternative she wishes to succumb to. She still has the option to fight, and she is going to take it.

“I healed my wounds.”

 

 ****

 

For hours on end, Kate’s eyes protested the idea of falling asleep to provide her a moment’s leeway from the harsh reminders this darkened cell kept presenting; the reminders of late night reflections, the weight of the butterfly pendant on her collar and the manacles on her wrists twisting her hopes and eventually burning them down to nothing but ash.

As they eventually fluttered closed, allowing her some much desired rest, a brisk rattling behind the metal door drags her out of that blissful state between wakefulness and slumber. She snaps her eyes open at whoever decided to pay a visit, and waits with her every fiber in her going very tense.

Kate discerns blonde hair in the darkness, before a light overhead gushes, followed by Seras’ voice fills the empty call.

“Hi,” she starts, her legs stepping forward towards said girl.

Kate’s narrowed eyes reignite with the same hope, lips parting into a smile. “Miss, Victoria?”

The girl nods. “I’ve brought water, do you want some?”

“Yes, please.” Kate beseeches.

After her little magic trick in front of Sir Integra and Walter, they decided to continue the interrogation later on the premise that Kate tells them something when they come back because they aren’t going to continue to play with her if she’s useless. Now that Kate thinks about it, that feels like quite a long time ago.

There’s the mouth of a bottle suddenly on her lips, and Kate drinks in large gulps, feeling the fresh liquid soothing her dry gullet. The bottle is taken away suddenly, and Kate doesn’t mind at all.

“Thank you,” she tells the blonde, now peering into the radiant illumination which her eyes are slowly adjusting to, staring closely at Seras. “Why are you helping me?”

“I’m not,” the girl replies. “There have been no instructions to keep you neither hydrated nor properly nourished, which tells me that Sir Integra has no plans whatsoever to keeping you alive. That is why I’m here.”

Kate feels a vice squeezing her heart at that.

“If you tell them what you know, there might be a possibility for you to be pardoned.” Seras squirms in her spot, water sloshing inside the bottle in her fidgeting hands. “Kate, you have to, if you want to live. They’re bringing Judge, and trust me you don’t want that man anywhere near you.”

More than that indoor voice, Kate is more aggravated at the fact that there are plans prepared to deal with her if she doesn’t tell them what she genuinely doesn’t know herself. She doesn’t know those people who appeared in the woods, and she doesn’t know what they wanted or who sent them. She just doesn’t know anything.

“Who’s Judge?”

Just as Seras proceeds to answer, the rattling of hinges stops her. The two girls swivel their heads towards the direction of the door, watching carefully how Sir Integra, followed by Walter, step into the small cell.

“Seras,” Sir Integra stops by the chair that was left there before. “What are you doing here?”

“Um,” Seras shows her the bottle, “I was just making sure she was hydrated enough for the interrogation.”

“Leave.”

None of them misses on the low rumble in the master’s voice.

Seras lingers just enough to cast pleading eyes at Kate before finally scurrying outside the door without any complains or final words.

How is Kate supposed to tell them anything if her guess is as good as theirs? There is no mystery behind it, no secret to be discovered here, only victims and assailants. How is Kate supposed to explain that without fanning the flames of Sir Integra’s anger, which, considering what she turned into, will only get amplified if triggered?

As she gulps, she almost hears the resonance of her throat bobbing up and down in the dreadful silence.

“Last night, I told you to have an answer ready when I come back,” Sir Integra starts, now resting down on the chair.

Kate is quite astounded to know that the battle to fall asleep has actually taken her the entire night. The nap which Seras roused her from must have lasted for a couple of hours. She doesn’t feel well rested, but at least she managed to catch on some sleep, and it’s thanks to that she doesn’t feel disoriented now.

Yes. There’s a question which is going to be asked following that statement, and Kate braces for it.

“I suppose you do?”

As Kate considers denying, the things Sera said suddenly result in her lips pressing, fighting against speaking the only truth she knows. She assumes she can lie her way out of this; she is a dead person if she carries on being stubborn. At the same time, she finds that lying is something she ever endeavored to do to protect her one, big secret, never a means to harm those around her.

“My answer is still the same,” she eventually settles for the truth. “I don’t know who sent them. I don’t know who they were, or what they wanted.”

“I see,” Sir Integra’s silver voice sing-songs, she ushers to Walter with her gloved hand, and Kate watches how Walter lowers his head with the dependability of a soldier, and heads outside. “Don’t worry, witch. We have other ways to make you talk.”

Kate probably doesn’t want to look at the door but that’s where her focus should be. She doesn’t know what’s awaiting her, and she isn’t looking forward to it. Now, as a 6’4 tall, full-figured, chubby-cheeked bald man dressed in nothing but brown trousers and carrying a leather bag, hobbles in, Kate’s fear becomes more palpable.

They watch, along with Walter who also returns to his post by the master’s side, how the man lays his bag on the floor to open it.

Kate cranes her neck to try to peer into the bag, but she fails.

“Oh,” Sir Integra hums as she is shown the contents of the bag by the man like a vendor splaying his items for a purchaser. “I’d go with the cat-o'-nine-tails, but I don’t think her body can take it. Let’s go with that one first” –she points at something which the stranger pecks out wordlessly– “switch if it doesn’t do the job I want it to.”

Kate hasn’t fathomed the meaning of all this, but the churn in her stomach is something she can’t stop, she realizes.

The man reels around, his actions calculated almost. He strokes the whip –Kate finally sees it and is too sickened to word it out loud– and brandishes it about.

“You” Kate glares at the master instead. “You can’t be thinking–”

“Not thinking,” Sir Integra says in that flat tone. “Not anymore.”

Kate senses the flogger approaching her, and the whooshes of the whip he brandishes become more audible. Dread fills her cores, turning her toes numb. “Wait –wait, please, you can’t do this. I didn’t do anything!”

There’s a scoff, which eventually morphs into a derogatory, foreboding chuckle. “You didn’t do anything?” the master dares. “You didn’t infiltrate into my organization to target me, you didn’t use me, and you didn’t curse me to turn me into a thing?!” She is bellowing by the end of the sentence, and adds more calmly. “No, you didn’t do anything. You just ruined me.”

Kate feels her trembling bottom lip slipping between her teeth, getting chewed on so she could stop herself from shedding any more hopeless tears. Although her target was never Sir Integra in this post-spell shape, but she was the reason things came to this. She knows she shouldn’t have deactivated the seal that day, and no matter how injured Sir Integra got, there were others to do the job. Her involvement only complicated things.

Even though her blood stopped the process of the transformation Sir Integra was supposed to go through, no one can deny that the effect was even more massive. Now, however, she doesn’t know if it was the right thing to do to stop it; turning into a werewolf wouldn’t have been the worst of scenarios to end up with.

Judge is also shoeless, so it seems a little stealthy when he comes up to Kate and she doesn’t even notice. As she wiggles to free herself from his grip on her sides, she suddenly feels her body being turned around so effortlessly so that she is facing the wall instead.

“Feel free to talk whenever you want,” Sir Integra says on a small sigh. “We aren’t going anywhere.”

Kate twists her neck again to try to look over her shoulder, but with her hands chained to the hook overhead, she finds that she can’t. “You’re making a big mistake, sir!” she tries to bargain her way out. “I don’t know those people!”

Judge’s bare, almost supple fingers clench on the fabric of the baggy top Katrina had lent her, and he wrenches it downward, tearing it into two pieces. He doesn’t even register Kate’s threats or her petite body shuffling as he moves on to her denim skirt, pulling it down her legs.

A sudden breeze slips across Kate’s bare skin, and goose bumps make her hair rise in response. She realizes she is dangling on the wall with nothing else on but her brassier and panties. While that shouldn’t be the first and worst of her worries, she finds that it is. The only person that has ever seen her nude is Sir Integra, Walter in certain occasions. And even in those occasions, she wished she wasn’t seen. Now, the three of them must be having a very clear view, and Kate isn’t happy with the exposure. Maybe she can cast a spell, and, for once, should use the magic for her own advantage. Maybe she can also use it to get out of this situation–

There’s a deep whoosh in the air before Kate feels a zapping burn in her back. At first, it’s almost too cold to burn, but the feeling changes rapidly into a biting sting that starts to radiate with a burning pain. Kate’s eyes go wide as a whimper escapes her lips. As she tries to give herself a moment to understand what just happened, the same whoosh is heard, followed by the same burning feeling over her back.

Kate realizes, a little too late, that her back is being scourged. She answers the relentless lashes with despaired screams that echo inside this cemented room.

When she left home and came here, she never imagined to end up here, being subjected to this maddening pain. She didn’t stop to think that maybe she was aiming too high, and with her meager skills, she shouldn’t have even made it into this mansion. Of course it was all planned. Of course she never had a chance. She wasn’t someone special despite how Sir Integra made it seem to be; treating Kate differently, forgiving her misconducts and always giving her second chances. They just wanted Kate under close watchful eyes.

The whipping comes to a receding halt, and so do Kate’s broken whimpers and small whines. She feels as though someone has scorched her skin, and now it is melting off.

“Please” she hacks a sob with her head lowered. “Stop this madness…”

“Give me a name.”

Shaking her head, Kate cries again because she knows the assault will go on unless she gives them something. And she doesn’t want to lie, but, right now, it feels like it’s the only solution. She needs to buy herself some time in order to figure out how to approach this and get away unscathed, hopefully.

The whip lashes against her skin again, and she arches with a shout. She smells rather than feels the coppery tang of blood, and the next time Judge wields the whip to the back in order to hit Kate with, she sees droplets of blood spluttering across the wall.

“Alright,” She mewls, “alright, just, please, it hurts so much…” The flogging stops suddenly, and Kate’s head tilts to the back, letting the current smooth over her tear-stained face.  “I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you everything. Just, stop.”

“Get her down.”

Kate feels Judge’s hands working on removing hers from the hook, and the minute the support is removed, she drops to the floor with a heavy thud. She groans as she settles on her side, feeling the pain searing through her skin.

The infamous click-clock of Sir Integra’s loafers nears her, and said master crouches beside the body tucked into itself in a fetal position, blank eyes taking in the sight. “Talk.”

Kate fights past her pains to sit up, her arms pressed to her chest. She can feel her entire body trembling, teeth gritting against the pain from the welted skin. She can feel sweat, tears and snot on her face, making locks of her hair cling to her cheeks. “I –” she clears her throat against the convulsing muscles, and hugs her arms closer to her chest. “I don’t know who sent them, but I can –I know one of them was a Vedmak, a very powerful warlock. They usually use a specific type of magic. It is traceable.”

“Go on.” The deep rumble again.

“If I can trail him, maybe I can find who sent him and the others.” God, she just wants to fall into oblivion. She wants to flee to somewhere not only distant, but vacant as well.  Kate doesn’t want to deal with any of this, not when her back is buzzing with that burning heat like that.

“What about the others,” Sir Integra’s vacant stare bores into Kate’s doleful eyes.  “What about the werewolf who bit me?”

Kate is already shaking her head. “You’re not a part of his pack. The process was hindered by my magic. You have nothing to worry about.”

“You’re such a moronic thing, Kate.” Sir Integra marvels, and quickly tacks on “assuming that really is your name. My entire life gets turned upside down, and you think the only thing I’m worried about is who my Alpha is?”

“I’m –I didn’t know things would get this bad,” Kate dips her chin. “I’m sorry, I really am.”

Gloved fingers clutch at Kate’s chin, jacking it up to make her meet Sir Integra’s glare, made crueler by the angle of the light.

“Listen to me, you witch, and listen well,” the master starts, “If you don’t find me those bastards, your days are numbered. And don’t think for a second that you can trick me again. If you do, you’re going to find that the whipping was a mercy. Understood?”

Those cruel orbs; they used to be kind. Kate tears stream down her cheeks again, hot and abundant, and she nods almost falteringly.

The fingers wedge her chin to the side sharply, and Sir Integra lifts up, reeling and ready to leave. “Clean up.”

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

 

 

Kate awakes suddenly with a barely stifled groan to the radiance of natural sunlight surging inside this vast room. She feels a harmless waft of chilly air coursing across her torso –she realizes, with dismay, that she is, in fact, unclothed. There’s a white quilt draped over the bottom half of her body. Propping her head off the pillow, Kate glances around to assets the unfamiliar room.

The bed she’s in is quite large that three, maybe even four, people her size could fit in. A canopy folded at the four wooden bed posts, and two nightstands at the sides of the bed. There’s an arched door from which the light is gushing, and a grey armchair just across the bed with a case of books posed over a small, round antique table and a foot stool perched in front of to it. There are two other closed doors at the far side with a golden knob and a wardrobe in between, and a hanging lamp in the ceiling.

Kate attempts to sit up but immediately regrets jarring the welts on her back. They don’t zap her with painful tremors anymore, but they’re still a little tender, she can tell, and so she concludes that she needs to be more careful moving next time. The change in position causes the quilt to slip downward, exposing more skin. She almost lets it be, but one of the white doors suddenly opens which ups her to grab the quilt from the hem and pull it up to her chin.

Katrina strolls in pushing a trolley, her expression grim.

As Kate scrutinizes the other woman, flashes of what happened reappear, and she quickly remembers borrowing the top from her after telling her what she’d planned. The only person other than Sir Integra and Walter who knew where she had been planning to go was Katrina, and that –that gifts Kate with more evidence that the assailants knew her.

“Hope you’re well-rested,” the raven-haired starts, pausing next to the bed with her hands on her hips. “You’ve slept for almost a week, time to get some food in you.”

Almost a week…?

“You’re ripe,” she adds, “I’ll prepare the bath, and you try to eat.”

As Katrina reels to head to the other door, Kate’s hoarse voice from disuse calls to stop her.

“What happened?” she starts, “Where is this place? Where’s Sir Integra?”

Katrina returns her hands to her hips and blows out a heavy sigh. “I don’t know much about what happened, but this is just another room in the west wing. I don’t know where Sir Integra is, and even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. Not after what you did.”

That makes Kate’s heart drop to her chest like an anvil in sea. “That’s –I didn’t…” she trails off after Katrina forestalled her with her lifted hand.

“I’m not here to be your friend,” she deadpans. “I was given instructions to keep you fed and clean, and that’s what I'm planning to do.”

Kate’s eyes stay on Katrina’s.

“Now eat your food and get ready to take a bath.” Saying so, Katrina walks towards the aforementioned door, leaving Kate behind gawking with a mixture of hurt and confusion.

Is she acting, pretending to have no hand in what happened, or what? All the servants here seem loyal to the master to a fault, and so Kate doesn’t know if or how she can confirm her doubts about Katrina. More than that, if Katrina’s reaction was genuine, and that’s what she thinks of Kate, then Kate knows for certain that the rest of the servants will show the same blatant and accusing attitude.

Kate falters for a moment, allowing the disheartening thought of her new villain pseudo to rid of her appetite, but predicting the battle in the offing, her resolve suddenly restrengthens, and she eats.

Katrina comes out, and the muffled noise of water splashing in the background follows her. There’s a piece of clothing adorning her arm.

“This type of fabric won’t irritate your wounds,” she says as se splays the bathrobe in the air. “Put it on.”

Kate eyes the bathrobe which Katrina has just placed on the bed, and then nods.

 

 

While drying her hair with a towel, Kate watches Katrina rummage through what’s in the small closet at the side. This odd scene is soon distorted by the arrival of Walter who opens the door and marches in without either knocking or announcing. The two girls look up, bringing their motions to an abrupt pause.

Kate clutches the towel in her hands and waits; although she has a plethora of questions she wants to ask, she knows Walter isn’t going to indulge her. She watches with pensive eyes how he holds the door open for Sir Integra to walk in, and something in Kate just melts.

Sir Integra, dressed in a dark blazer and trousers, aims her colored eyes at Kate’s which makes the brunette frown a little in worry and anticipation. The master, then, as though sensing a prying stare at her cursed profile, glances over at Katrina, who flinches at having been caught staring openly and lowers her chin, and she orders her to leave the room. Katrina complies, bowing swiftly and slipping out of the room without a ruckus.

Kate returns her eyes to her master’s, feeling a little abashed at the portable reminder all over Sir Integra’s face which her magic helped create. She isn’t going to dwell on it, not anymore. She might have interfered to help, and that only made things worse and she is going to live with this regret for the rest of her life, but she is going to find the one behind all of it.

Sir Integra takes a step forward, and another and another until she approaches the armchair, and she sits down with the grace of a king. “Tell me more about the Vedmak.”

Kate’s eyes have been roving over her master’s neck and the dark veins in them, over the puffed out chest and the broad shoulders, but they snap back to her master’s at the question. “They’re male witches. They possess a natural talent for witchcraft, an innate power if you will. Some of them choose to use it for what’s good, to help and heal. Most of them do. But the one who was at the clearing was different. He was a rogue.”

“And how is that going to help you track him?”

Kate sits at the edge of the bed, placing the towel beside her hip. “When it comes to magic,” she starts, looking head-on at the master, “Just like everything, there’s a rigid dichotomy between its good and bad. A Vedmak can use his talents to treat people and animals, but if taken over by their thirst for power, they can go rogue. While that makes them powerful, it also makes them easy to track.”

“How do you suggest we start this, then?”

This is the part Kate would rather not explain. As she takes in her master’s form shaded by warm sunlight, she inwardly studies her options because, really, none of them wants to fall into the same rut. She doesn’t know if the transformation has heightened Sir Integra’s hearing because if it did her lie would be easily detected, but she also doesn’t want to delve into explaining this part because she knows it would only pain them all.

“I need to go back to the clearing.” She studies the way Sir Integra’s brows crease across her forehead. “A spell was used, but since black magic isn’t inborn, I’m quite certain there are remnants of whatever ingredients he used that can be traceable.”

Sir Integra shuffles a little over the armchair, uncrossing her legs and thumbing the tip of her chin. “You think I’d happily take you back there, after what you did?”

Kate grits against the instinct to rebuff the accusation. So long as she doesn’t have any proof, nothing can change what everyone here believes. And Sir Integra is a practical person; she isn’t going to pardon her just because Kate denied enough.

“That’s the only way there is.”

Amidst the silence, a knock on the door brings the tension to a stop.

“Excuse me, sir, but the doctor has arrived.”

“Very well, then,” said master drawls, “let him in.”

The graying doctor, dressed in a suit and a hat and carrying a bag, enters the room under everyone’s watchful eyes. He removes his hat and holds it close to his chest in greeting.

“Good day, Sir Integra,” he says, “I hope I am not interrupting anything.”

Said sir props an elbow on the armrest and crosses her legs one over the other. “Not at all,” she said, “Go ahead and examine your patient.”

He nods, and despite the firm pinch of his lips which bespeaks his refusal to the lack of privacy for the said patient, he keeps his objection to himself. He walks up to Kate, a wrinkled hand ushering to the girl to lie back and the other places the bag on the bedside table.

Kate faces up, finding Walter swiveling to face the wall instead while Sir Integra making no effort whatsoever to look away. It’s fine, right? She’s been seen by those eyes before, touched with those hands and even kissed by those lips, so it’s alright.

“Go on,” The doctor goads, “remove your bathrobe and show me your back.”

Kate doesn’t change her position and remains perched at the edge of the bed, she unfolds the belt and slips the bathrobe off her narrow shoulders. For some decency, she resolves to hold the lapels up so her ample bosom isn’t exposed as well, but the doctor complains about it, leading her to drop her hands and allow the bathrobe to roll down to her waist.

The doctor nudges a finger against one of the welts, causing Kate to let out a small hiss at the resultant soreness. She looks up from her wince, and finds her master staring deeply at her exposed torso, and that alone makes Kate’s nipples shamelessly perk up. She feels a heat soaring through her as a vivid flash of hands fondling her appears in her head. How silly of her to want to be touched like that again so soon after ruining that person’s life!

“Good, good,” the doctor hums. “You can put your clothes back on.” He says as he delves into his bag.

Kate heads the order, donning the bathrobe over her shoulders again and veiling her breasts and her necklace at last.

“The platelets have coagulated, which means the welts are healing as they should.” He informs, taking out a small bottle out of his bag. “This is an ointment containing anesthetics; it’ll help reduce the pain. Also, I’m a bit concerned about your body temperature, so just for my peace of mind don’t over exert yourself for the next couple of days.”

Kate doesn’t know what over-exerting means for her now.

The doctor carries his bag and hat again, and rounds the bed nearer to the armchair. “She’s recovering fast, and all her wounds are almost completely healed. You can call me if there’s a change.”

“We will, Mr. Potts.”

Mr. Potts bows slightly, wears his hat and finally exits the room.

Sir Integra suddenly levers up, orders Walter to call Katrina back in. “Get dressed,” she tells Kate, “We’re making a little trip back to that clearing.”

Kate lifts up as well, brows furrowed. “You mean now?”

The taller one stuffs her pockets with her hands, and walks towards the door, ignoring the appeal in Kate’s intonation.

 

 

Katrina has dressed Kate in a long sleeve midi dress, which starts at a mock neck and cascades into a rushed bodice, in a cool print of flowers and roses, with a pair of chunky open toe shoes. She also did Kate’s hair into a rope braid. As Katrina leads her down the hallway, Kate can’t help but pinpoint the lathing glares aimed at her from several maids as they zoom past them in their haste to reach the front door. They must have heard the story, there’s no doubt, or else how could anyone not ask questions with half of Sir Integra’s face looking like it’s been scorched with boiling ink. Kate must have been made to be the villain in the story, which, thinking back on the way Sir Integra gulped her blood, is partly true; damn it, no, she’s already promised 'no remembering'. She can’t allow another relapse.

What she can’t understand, however, is if Katrina had anything to do with what happened, or how she was able to summon those men without giving away her involvement. If she is the one responsible for this, she cannot be left unsupervised. And even if Kate goes to her master expanding on how Katrina had used their friendship to curse Sir Integra and frame Kate, her theory still cannot be proven and her master is more likely to show more wrath and hatred than she already has, and, with all things considered, that is more than Kate can handle.

 

Upon reaching the door, Katrina opens it and ushers Kate out, the two finding Sir Integra’s personal car waiting, with Walter standing by the door of the backseat. While Katrina stays behind, Kate all but approaches the vehicle on Walter’s command, and finally gets in after he opened the door for her.

Inside, Kate seats herself next to her master, who doesn’t look away from the window at her side, and Walter closes the door. He rounds the hood and vanishes from Kate’s view since there’s a darkened glass between the front and the backseats.

 

 

The tires have been grooving on jutted ground for a while now, all in intense silence. Kate has relished the closeness within the vast spaced car with Sir Integra sitting right next to her, but has also shaken back to reality after one fleeting once-over at the said master’s profile. Then, so unexpectedly, a phone rings. Kate perks up to the noise, and watches how Sir Integra fishes out the piece of contraption out of her chest pocket, how she connects the call and then brings it to her ear.

“Inspector Kearney, what’s the occasion?” Her deep voice drones, and she adds after a pause. “Why yes. I would, but now isn’t a good time.” Then after another pause “Very well then, I’ll see you in a few.”

Walter then prompts up, “Is there a problem, sir?”

“There’s been a change in plans,” she reports, “I need you to head to High Street. Another body’s been found.”

 

 

At some point, Kate has debated whether to acquire info or not about these homicides, but eventually acquiesced to the part in her telling her to mind her own business. Now, the car comes to a gradual stop just beyond a yellow police tape where a few crowds of people have gathered to sate their curiosity. An officer in official garments scurries to their vehicle, lifts the tape and shepherds it in while holding off the crowds.

A tall and lanky black-haired male leaves his cohort of colleagues, and waits until the arriving car parks somewhere at the curbs before hobbling towards Sir Integra’s side of the car, leaning heavily on his crane.

Before vacating the car, Sir Integra turns her head to face Kate. “Stay close,” she orders. “Understood?”

Kate sags with relief; at least she isn’t going to be barricaded with no assurances that the wait won’t be long. She keeps quiet as her master vacates the vehicle, as does Walter judging by the second slamming noise of doors, before finally doing the same.

 

 

“Name’s George Wilson, twenty six of age. Found about forty miles away from last abduction site. Preliminary investigations suggest death from immediate exsanguination.” Inspector Kearney reports, his gate hasty despite his limp.

“Any witnesses?” Sir Integra asks.

The inspector shakes his head. “None. Three bodies so far and no one’s seen anything.” he replied, now taking the right turn into a narrow alley where Kate sees a few people in full PPE surrounding a pasty-looking body of a young man on the ground. “Our people are still investigating the crime scene, nothing has turned up yet.”

They finally come to a stop just a couple of meters away from the lifeless body, and Kate remains at the back with Walter standing guard next to her.

“I see,” Sir Integra hums thoughtfully before reeling to face Mr. Kearney. “You’ve been satisfied not injecting me into this investigation so far, what changed?”

The man blows a tired sigh, now rocking his crane a little, out of habit Kate assumes. “It seems my team has failed to notice a tiny little detail which is capable of changing the entre course of this investigation,” he starts, “the mortuary called in just before I contacted you earlier–”

“And?”

Instead of giving her the answer, the inspector juts his chin at the body. “Take a look at his neck.”

With narrowed eyes, Sir Integra walks away from the man and closer to the body, crouching gracefully to inspect the victim’s neck, and finally pinpointing the two small puncture wounds on his skin over the vein.

“Interesting,” she comments, now lifting up and thrusting her hands into her pockets. “And the two other bodies, they’re the same?”

The inspector nods. “The two bodies both suffered from massive blood loss, same as this one, about two-thirds of blood gone without a trace. There was none in both sites. There is none here either.”

Sir Integra scans her surroundings, “What about CCTV, or traffic cameras? They must have recorded something.”

But the inspector is already shaking his head. “We’ve already checked, tapes show nobody coming in or going out at the time of the murder. Ditto the last two murders. It’s like they just turn up dead the next day.”

Sir Integra notes out. “I’m assuming no fingerprints or DNA found on the two bodies either.”

The inspector shakes his head, sadly.

“This isn’t much to go on, Inspector.” Sir Integra says simply, “Despite the scare evidence, I can confirm that this is the work of a vampire, but there isn’t much we can do but wait.”

Kate frowns at the hint which she prays is only in her imagination.

“You mean for the ruddy vamp to strike again?” Mr. Kearney huffs straight at her brazen stare.

“For him to fail,” She corrects, and looks away from the man’s quizzical face. “This makes it the subject’s third murder in the span of a month, he or she is getting overconfident; it’s only a matter of time before a blunder is made.”

Seeing the logic in her theory, the inspector eventually concedes her point, but Kate, at the side, is horrified that even the authorities must sit and stew until the next body is sucked dry for them to finally move on with this investigation. More to the point, the killer could go on another killing spree without making any mistakes and that could take more bodies. She knows nobody wants that, but insufficient data is what hinders the police, and so it is only fair to want to help to stop people from dying even though she knows resorting to this could end badly for her.

“I can help.” Kate volunteers, her voice small in the silence. Several eyes land on hers, and Sir Integra’s are what almost make Kate flinch away and take her words back. “I –” she clears her throat, “If you want, I can help.”

“How?” Sir Integra scowls deeply.

“Astral projection.”

The inspector looks from Kate to her master, and then at Kate again, his brows creasing even deeper between his eyes. “I’m sorry, who are you again?”

“Nobody you should worry yourself about,” Sir Integra provides in her stead, now facing the girl again. “Explain.”

“You know about the out-of-body theory, well this is kinda the same, except it’s prompted by magic.” Kate twines her fingers together, and fidgets more the longer her master’s eyes stay on hers. “There’s a spell I’ve mastered which can show us what happened here at the night of the murder. That way, you won’t have to sit and wait for another innocent person to die.”

Stepping forward, Sir Integra doesn’t stop until she is less of a stride’s length away from Kate. Her hard glare remains unchangeable. “If I find that this is just another scheme of yours –”

Kate quickly cuts her off, “It isn’t, I swear. I just want to help.”

Sharing a pensive look with Walter, Sir Integra finally nods.

For someone else, the gesture might be just a wordless consent, but to Kate, it’s a rope of hope. She knows not much can be done about the broken trust, but she would like to ensure her way into building one anew. She is doing this so no one is killed by this vampire, yes, but she is also doing this to appease to her master and show her that what she has is all good intentions.

Facing the inspector, Kate allows a faint hint of a smile. “Could you please ask your people to step away from the body?”

Checking with Sir Integra, Mr. Kearney abides and ushers his team to evacuate the crime scene, leaving only the three adults in Kate’s vicinity.

Kate steps towards the man on the ground, a little horrified by the routinely feat which is anything but. Kneeling down, she looks up at the three before her and winces. “You might want to step back a little.” As she watches them carry out her order, she brings her wrist to her teeth and bites, causing her blood to spill out. She lowers her wrist and lets the droplets of blood accumulate into a small puddle. Using the same blood, she draws two spiral shapes contradicting each other’s direction, and mutters a spell in a different tongue.

The gushing light projecting from the drawn patterns suddenly swivels its beam and shade under Mr. Kearney’s gushing fascination and the other two’s incredulous staring, landing on the wall at the end of the alley like a theater's spotlight. Two figures manifest, one carrying another over shoulder and stealthily landing on the ground after jumping down from the high roofs. The person carried wriggles and squirms, pleading to be freed.

“Let me down,” he pleads, “Just let me go. I won’t tell anyone; I’ll pretend this never happened. Please.”

The other lets him down, but the moment of relief is short lived as he finds himself being slammed against the aforementioned wall, and bit into. The perpetrator sucks more blood as the man convulses and gasps, his hands swatting at the vampire’s shoulders weakly until the fight leaves him and he slumps with his eyes closed. The vampire drinks a bit more, before finally releasing the body and letting it drop to the floor in the same position the police found it in, before he turns, and a little shows from his face.

“Hold up!” Mr. Kearney perks up, “isn’t that professor Hailey from Warwick Law School?”

Following his observation, Sir Integra frowns at the vampire as he jumps up in a zigzag with the help of the narrow alley’s walls. Unable to confirm or deny, she orders Kate to pause the projection at the culprit’s face. “Can you do that?”

Kate, with her hands on the patterns and her knees now on the floor, shakes her head. “It takes a lot out of me. I can’t backward or forward this like a tape, it doesn’t work like that.”

“Well, tough.” Sir Integra seethes, “we have to make sure he is the vampire.”

Kate is a little afraid misusing this technique could affect her own strength; she wasn’t lying when she said that this takes a lot out of her. It’s magic, absolutely, but magic comes with a price. A skill of this level is more than a little pricey. She bears with it; she will handle the consequences because she already promised to help catch the killer. Pushing her engines, Kate wills her body to spill more blood, which allows her to go back and forth in the projection to finally settle on the vampire’s face.

The angle is perfect. The quality of the reflection the vampire’s face paused at is very clear. The evidence is also apparent in it since there’s blood on his mouth and chin.

“I can’t believe it!” Mr. Kearney exclaims, now pointing at the killer’s face with his crane. “We've been consulting with that man, used him on several proper cases, too.”

“That’s unfortunate.” Is all Sir Integra says as she takes in the way the projection’s light reduces bit by bit until their surroundings are back to their natural illumination.

Turning to the magic user, Inspector Kearney asks, “This isn’t a trick, is it?” he seems to be begging silently for the reassurance. “You honestly believe that Prof. Hailey had a hand in this?”

Kate is fighting to stand vertical; her fever has spiked already a little higher than usual, and now the blood loss is making her vertigo even worse. She remains steady nonetheless. “What I believe has nothing to do with it, Inspector Kearney. The projection isn’t a trick of the mind. What you saw is what really happened, and the man is the killer you seek to catch. Now it’s up to you to place the puzzle together.”

As the man lets the input sink home, Kate steps away from the body on the ground, attempting to return to her spot next to Walter but a hand on her elbow holds off her movement. She glances at the hand through hooded-eyes, and follows its owner to Sir Integra’s blighted face.

“Sir…?”

While the other three remain in the alley, Mr. Kearney heads back to his units, barking orders to fetch the murderer and bring him in for questioning.

Kate’s eyes refocus beyond that haziness making her lids heavy. “What’s the matter, sir?”

“Our job here is done,” Sir Integra says, now slowly letting go of Kate. “You’re going to perform the same projection you did here in the woods.”

Kate’s shoulders slump as does her head, “I can’t.” She said, “This spell weakens me. I can’t afford to lose any more blood than I already have, sir. It is dangerous to my health.”

The master’s glare remains hard. “That wasn’t a request.”

Kate is afraid; of course she is. She doesn’t think of herself as fearless; but actually far from it. But there are times that enough is enough, and she would like to think that this is one of them just so she can give her body the reprieve it needs to recharge her batteries.

“I won’t.”

There’s a flash of something lathing in the taller person’s eyes that makes Kate’s limbs go numb.

“What did you just say?”

Kate looks over at Walter, wishing he’d lend a hand, but knowing he was present at the day the curse was placed on his master, she knows no help will be granted. She looks up into her master’s eyes again. “The process could kill me. I’m not making this up, sir, please believe me.”

Letting out a little scoff, Sir Integra asks “why do you assume I care?”

At the malicious words, Kate feels the void festering in her chest expanding, and her bottom lip trembling. “You don’t care if I die?”

“Never have,” the other simply shrugs, “Never will.”

Lowering her head until her chin meets her collar, Kate snivels. “You’re so cruel,” her small voice brittles, and tears burn her eyes, “For me, I –I’d go out of my mind if you die…”

Surprisingly, nobody says anything after that as Sir Integra simply retreats from Kate’s space and walks out of the alleyway. Kate lingers behind, only contemplating with remorse how the words are going to stab for the next few years, before finally scuffing her feet along, with Walter in her tow like her shadow.

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

 

Walter eventually took a detour and swiveled the car to the direction of the mansion after Kate kept nodding off in her seat at the back. She was escorted to her room by Katrina by their master’s order, and that was it.

 

It’s been a couple of weeks since and Kate hasn’t had any new chances to see Sir Integra. And she wants to with every fiber in her craving that presence. She’s been attended to by Katrina, but aside from the usual talks about the weather and their plans for the day, the two ladies never bother to engage in more.

Ambling outside has always been something Kate had taken for granted once upon a time, but now it has become a luxury. She became forbidden from leaving her room or talking to anyone that isn’t Katrina, Walter or the master herself. She’s finished one of Jules Verne’s books and is now through the second, and despite the childish vibe they give off, Kate admits that they’re what made it possible to not feel the drag of time between four walls.

It didn’t last.

Bit by bit, Kate was starting to feel the stifling feeling of being barricaded between those walls with nothing to do or anybody to talk to. Although she changed locations from the dungeons to here, this room still feels like a cell.

 

By the sudden gust of wind that whooshes back and fro the balcony where Kate is standing, she knows someone has just opened the door to the way out, causing the current. She reels around, finding Katrina marching in.

“Sir Integra asks for you,” she said. “I’m to take you to her office.”

 Kate blows a sigh and allows a hand to fall from the balustrade. She is already dressed so she assumes pondering whether to change into something fancier or not isn’t going to be a problem today. She heads to the door, and then lingers behind to give Katrina the whim of having control over who’s leading whom.

 

The door Katrina opens is the same Sir Integra uses; aside from the two vampires and the butler, no one is allowed to walk in and out using this door. It is quite disconcerting to be freely led to it and then told to go in. However, Kate doesn’t brood over it more than what is necessary. She walks in and gets immediately bathed by warm rays of the sinking sun coming from the floor-to-ceiling windows behind Sir Integra’s desk. Speaking of whom, she seems to be dressed in a different ensemble of black trousers and blazer. The pungent scent that falls between something like amber and aquatic tang soars inside, reaching Kate’s nostrils and giving her a thrill.

 

“You wanted to see me?” Kate asks as she walks up to the desk, standing beside it with her fingers twined in front of her.

Sir Integra seems too immersed in whatever she’s typing away on her personal laptop that it almost looks like she didn’t even notice Kate’s arrival, least of all her existence. Keeping patient, Kate waits until the master looks up from the screen with a hand removing her glasses.

“Sir, why did you ask for me?” Kate demands with the utmost steadiness in her voice she can muster.

“We need to talk,” Sir Integra starts, now rummaging inside her chest pocket for something with a hand while the other removes folders aside on the top of her desk to reveal a stack of paper sheets attached together by a binder clip, the hand in the pocket finally coming out with a brown cigar.

Kate, again, follows the paper stack to where the master flung it. “What’s this?”

“A contract.” The master deadpans. She flicks the wheel of her lighter and mutters indistinctly to herself about the fire that doesn’t spark.

Kate looks away and at the paper stack, finally lifting it up to read through the pages. It takes her the entire next three pages to realize that the contract commits her to the organization, and that should she choose to sign it, she will be disposed to working for Sir Integra until the same date of next year. With a frown, she looks up.

“What is the meaning of this?”

“Exactly what it says,” the other simply says; she’s finally managed to light up her cigar. She adds after a pause, “Professor Hailey admitted to committing the murders; Alucard and Seras had to get their hands dirty for that little achievement, but all is well that ends well, isn’t it? Last time’s case gave me quite the idea, I must say. With your magic and Alucard’s powers, we can put a stop to these unsightly things that go about pestering the public.”

Kate is already shaking her head on a scoff, “That was a one-off,” she said, “I’m not planning on doing it again. I can’t misuse my magic like that.”

“You already have,” Sir Integra says, firmly. The grey in her cursed eye bespeaks the anger and the disappointment as well as Kate’s failure and, to what Sir Integra believes is true, betrayal. “Now you actually get to do something good with it.”

After a poignant pause, Kate asks “what about the clearing?”

The master props her elbows on the desk and twines her fingers under her chin. “You can’t be trusted,” she simply says, “and I don’t wish to follow on your theory. We have the professor now, so we’ll conduct our own investigation.”

“What makes you think I’m going to sign this?”

“Our organization has the power to infiltrate the media, so, needless to say, any disobedience from you will not go unpunished. Your picture along with a slew of excuses won’t keep you far from justice should you attempt to flee.” She said, “Whether you sign it or not, it doesn’t change much of the fact that I own you now.”

Nibbling harshly on her bottom lip, Kate glares at the master. “So, what, are you going to enslave me?”

“You should have thought of the consequences before you led me to the woods,” the other reminds, “your offence at my treatment to you means nothing to me.” As another spell of silence prolongs, Sir Integra volunteers to interrupt it. “Five years ago, Seras never planned to join the organization, but with her involvement, a lot of lives have been saved. She is vital to us now. All I’m saying is, despite how it looks, this could be a good thing. Think of it as a chance to redeem yourself.”

Kate forces herself to see the logic in it; she somehow does, but the doubts are what make her hesitant to commit for the entirety of the year. A year is not easy. She would have to follow the rules, and the rules are there to constrict your freedom; who would want to give up their freedom?

She hasn't informed her family of the kind of job she had come here for and which, eventually, was ruined for her. Though, that really would still not be the biggest of her problems; graduating with a degree shouldn't have ended with her cleaning horse dung or getting pushed around to do someone's bidding. She doesn't even know if she should tell them of her predicament or ride out the storm. 

Refusing to comply is also not an option here; she would become the kingdom's most wanted and no place would welcome her. The last thing she wants is make more enemies. That would certainly make her family proud; what a joke! 

More importantly, she wants to catch the ones who framed her. If she stays, she’ll have to comply.

This is so confusing and nerve-wracking.

“Alright,” she finally concludes, “I have three conditions though.”

Sir Integra hums on cue.

“I can’t stay locked in my room like a prisoner; I need more freedom than that.” She states, and added “I need a laptop or a phone" since hers got confiscated the day she started working here "and I want full access to the library.”

“You will be given four to five hours of freedom each day. You will be allowed in and about, but you will be accompanied by the maid I assigned to you.” She starts, and Kate is okay with that. Baby steps, right? “You won’t be given a phone or a laptop. You won’t have full access to the library either.”

“What am I supposed to do with no sort of entertainment, then?” Kate seethes, “count the strands of my hair?”

The other lifts a hand to forestall any more of the girl’s grumblings. “I can allow a TV in your room. As for the library, your maid will bring you two books a week of my own choice.”

She can work with that. Kate nods and the action is faint. "I still need to call my family, let them know that I'm okay."

The knock on the door next is what brings this talk to an end as Walter opens the main door across the desk and steps in, he bows a little.

“Excuse the intrusion,” he starts, “But Mr. Lyuben Grabcheva, the mayor of Haskovo, Bulgaria, is here to see you.”

As the master gives her permission, Kate at the side stiffens not knowing whether to leave or stay. But as no orders come from said master, Kate remains where she is in case she is still needed for further discussion about the terms of their agreement.

Walter pushes the door wider and ushers the new guest in, and then a bulky man in a blue marine suit and with a bald walks in, loafers shining against the rays of the sun that have managed to sneak in. There’s a little stomp in his gait as he heads towards the desk, his chubby cheeks flushing probably at the exertion.

Sir Integra pushes off her chair, squelching the cigar on an ashtray beside the laptop. She extends her hand when the mayor finally reaches the desk.

“Mr. Grabcheva, it’s really nice to see you again. You look well.”

The man takes her hand in his in a firm shake, before returning the smile. “You’re being too polite, Sir Integra. I’ve gained a lot of weight since our last meeting.”

Sir Integra ushers him to one of the chairs as she seats herself. “Excuse the mess; I wasn’t informed of your arrival until now.”

The man sits and waves a hand off. “Don’t sweat it,” he says, “It’s my fault I came unannounced.”

Kate has retreated towards the window behind Sir Integra’s chair, her form shaded by carroty sunlight, making her almost invisible.

The man takes a moment to fish out a handkerchief from his chest pocket to wipe all those beads of sweat off his bare head. And Sir Integra orders that Walter prepare some tea and bring water with it.

“You seem like you’ve ran with hell hounds at your tail, Mr. Grabcheva.” Sir Integra points out, and Kate agrees with the comment. “What seems to be the matter?”

“I have an emergency, you see.” He starts, and wordlessly accepts Walter coming up to him and handing him the water; the tea can wait. He nods as a ‘thank you’ and takes a few large gulps. “It will sound crazy, I warn you.”

“That’s kind of our area.”

The man nods again, “which is why I took a jet to come and see you.” Placing the glass down, he says after clearing his throat, “Dr. Valchanov, who owns a psychiatric hospital, is an old friend of mine. She contacted me last week on a strange case. It all started three months ago, actually, when she received her first patient with this very strange case of psychosis. She only contacted me after her own investigation on a series of house fires that have all ended with male patients suffering a severe case of paranoia and obsession.”

“Go on,” Sir Integra drones.

“The number of the victims has risen to seven so far.” He starts, “And there have been nine fires in the last three months alone. Dr. Valchanov has also informed me that the seven victims all had mentioned seeing the same woman before the fire.”

“Are they coherent, lucid even?”

The mayor shakes his head. “They’re always in frenzy.” He said. “Following her call, I shared the info with the police in hopes they identify the woman who was the main suspect. There have been a few sightings, but most of the footage have been corrupted. No eyewitness so far but the victims accounts.”

“I see.”

“The problem is that following every fire, there’s been a victim. And so far, there have been nine fires, but only seven victims were found.”

“So, you want us to find the other two for you, assuming there’s really an arsonist causing these fires.” She concludes. And following his curt nod, Sir Integra says, “So far, I can’t pinpoint any supernatural activity. This seems like the act of an avenging arsonist, and I’m sorry to say but it’s better to leave it to the police.”

Kate has listened to their talks, but decides to share a bit of her knowledge on the matter, hoping it would help.

“Actually, most serial arsonists are young white males.” She starts, garnering their attention immediately. “Female arsonists are rare, and even if the one setting these fires is a woman, chances are you are dealing with a very unstable individual.”

“How so?”

“For female arsonists, a fire is usually a prevalence of attention-seeking. Sometimes it’s a ‘cry for help’ or a coping mechanism. Alcohol, drug dependence or sometimes bipolar disorder is what sets them off.” She said, “In most arson cases, the majority of male serial arsonists remain at the scene after setting the fire. To them, the most common motive for setting fires is revenge. Sometimes it’s the excitement, vandalism, profit, and other crime concealment.” Kate added after a curt pause, “Nine fires have been documented in the span of three months, but the arsonist hasn’t been caught. This is more organized. Does this really look like the work of an unstable female arsonist?”

“I agree.” The master said, “I think you should investigate more, find what’s common between the seven victims.”

The mayor fumbles with his blazer pockets, finally taking out a bundle of photos. He hands them to the master, who takes them silently and switches to look at them from one to another. “Those are the seven victims in my friend’s hospital. Take a good look at them.”

She does, and so does Kate who skids a little closer and peeks at the naked men in the photos, and notices the same burn mark on their sternums that is shaped like petals in a vertical position.

“At first, she thought it was a coincidence. But it turned out to be a pattern.” He said, “Tell me, doesn’t it seem odd to you?”

 

 

********

 

 

 

The Hotel Queens really proved to have excellent room service, but Kate has attributed that to the fact that it is a five-star hotel in the center of the city of Haskovo, and so of course they’d be working their hardest to maintain that reputation.

 

_She didn’t want to come along; she had still not signed the contract when the mayor left the manor that evening and left Sir Integra to decide. Sir Integra had turned to Kate, lounged back in her chair like she wasn’t planning on unseating herself for the next two decades, and then motioned to the contract._

_“Make up your mind.”_

_Kate fiddled and twisted her fingers until she heard them crack with a satisfying pop, her pensive eyes remained on the contract. “Am I supposed to work cases with you now?”_

_The other glared at her from over the rim of her reading glasses, “For me, not with. You’re supposed to do as I say from now on.”_

_“Do I have a choice at all?”_

_“Not if you want to be become a designated terrorist.” The master simply said, and, with all the sporadic bombing happening across the world, Kate knew how effective that threat was._

_Letting go of a scoff, Kate returned her eyes to the contract. So refusing really amounted to rebellion, which could lead to her imprisonment –she suddenly had a horrible, visceral mental image of it, and it was in no way befitting. Oh, wow. This was getting better and better by the second._

_That’s how she ended up signing the contract, but her coming along was really something she did not foresee._

_While she was in her room, pondering the consequences of her signing the contract, Katrina came in again muttering about needing to dress her up for the impromptu flight. Infuriated, Kate attempted to head to the master’s room to get it settled but Katrina’s warranting index swing left very little room to argue. That didn’t stop Kate from heading to the master’s when Katrina wasn’t looking, and walking into her room. She was met with silence and dimness, but the habit of Sir Integra of leaving one window open and the other close had still been in effect. The bed was a rumble of military coat and coiled bed sheets._

_Kate approached the bed, to where it all started, and it suddenly dawned on her that they hadn’t been doing it at all lately and her presumed betrayal is what brought things to an end; she realized she still kept a little hope. She heard the door of the bathroom open, and all her bearings came intact. She reeled to look at her master who vacated the bathroom with just a towel around her waist, wet sleek-black locks wrapped in a ponytail which told Kate the master had cut them shorter. The patch the curse caused reached all the way to her abdomen but occupied only half of her torso, and a little of her arm._

_Sir Integra paused by the door a little before finally marching to the armoire, “You’re supposed to be waiting in the car.”_

_Kate’s mouth finally remembered how to form words, and so she cleared her throat and said “You said nothing about including me in cases and even hauling me around the country with you.”_

_“Including you in cases might be useful to us,” the other said solemnly. “But it’s still my decision to make. You have no say in it.”_

_“Are you going to continue to do this for the rest of the year?”_

_The master untied the towel, letting it fall to the floor, and causing Kate’s heart a vigorous thump. The sight of a completely naked body that used to hold Kate so dearly made something in her stomach flutter._

_Kate eyed the body, its juts and curves and muscles from head to toe, and her eyes finally landed on the master’s shrunken cock, reminding Kate, yet again, of the times she was taken and pleasured to the point of screaming. Her pussy twitched at the reminder, wanting to feel that cock inside of it again and pulsate on it and even milk it… She shook her head to listen to what the master was saying._

_“From now on, you’re going to do as you’re told and keep quiet about it.” The other said, picking out another dark ensemble of blazer, trousers and white dress shirt. “No more coming to me for confirmation; you’ve signed the contract, nothing can undo that.”_

_Kate eventually conceded, and actually a part of it was because she wanted to exit the room; her heart was beating so loudly she could hear it in her throat. She felt her pussy throbbing and oozing a little and she couldn’t trust herself any longer. The only thing that made her linger was to check on something. “Whatever came of the flower?”_

_The master was in the process of heading back to the bed to place her outfit on the footboard when she paused suddenly, before finally answering. “Tossed.”_

 

Kate walks out with her master and the butler towards the car waiting outside, and while Walter takes the keys from the parking valet, Kate and Sir Integra take the back seats.

The car grooves between the busy streets. Kate eyes the open boutiques’ fonts and the heavily-dressed pedestrians, the yellow cabs which remind her of New York’s taxis in movies. She listens to the low hum of the engine, and from time to time, the rustle of papers getting folded since Sir Integra is reading the newspaper next to her.

“Have you called Mr. Grabcheva yet?” the master suddenly inquires.

“Yes, sir. I have.” Walter replies, “He is waiting at his friend’s hospital.”

“Why do I have a bad feeling about this, Walter?” her drawl deepens

“Mr. Grabcheva is desperate to prove that the fires are a freak accident, but it could be exactly what we expected.” Walter explains.

The master hums and folds the paper again, “It might take more than a warning to stop him, though.” She theorizes, “He’s too desperate.”

“He’s pressured.” Kate corrects, and almost shrinks in under her master’s glare.

“What do you mean?”

Kate gulps. “He obviously conducted the investigation thinking it was a firebug committing the arson, he only came to you after he had exhausted all options and turned up empty.”

“Are you saying something out there that is not human is actually what’s causing these fires?”

“We wouldn’t be here if you believed otherwise.” Kate counters. “Deep down, you know there’s something off about this case, and so does Mr. Grabcheva.”

After a short pause, Sir Integra scoffs on a simper and returns her attention to the paper.

 

The car slides through the open gate and into a driveway with patches of green and arched benches at its sides, finally stopping besides the massive building. 

Mr. Grabcheva, who’s been standing by the doors with his hands behind his back, bounds down the stairs at their arrival, and welcomes the master with a handshake “I’m so happy you decided to come.” He tells her on a beam. “¨Please, follow me. Dr. Valchanov is waiting inside.”

Kate also vacates the car like the other two and follows them inside.

 

There are glossy tiled walls and floors everywhere, large wall windows and a lot of doors and plant stands along the hallway. So as the mayor wonders about their trip, tricking Sir Integra into small talk which the master indulges despite the impatient intonation in her voice, Kate assesses the place with wary eyes.

“Oh, Dr. Valchanov!” the mayor gushes.

Kate perks up at that as they come to a sudden stop in the long corridor, she looks ahead and finds a tall and slim, blue-eyed blonde, donning a lab coat over a black mini dress, and red-bottoms, heading their way with a wide smile. She can’t be under forty, but she still looks beautiful nonetheless.

“Sir Hellsing,” the blonde doctor spreads her hand, and her eyes take in the scar on the master's face. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Sir Integra takes that hand in a manner only a gentleman would his lady’s. “Pleasure is mine.”

“Mr. Grabcheva has told me a lot about you,” the look in her eyes deepens, “and I’m very hopeful that you will find the answers to our questions.”

“That’s what we’re hoping.” Sir Integra agrees.

“This way please,” she ushered in, now leading them all towards the right turn at the end of the corridor. “When I received the first victim, I didn’t think much of it. The burn on his sternum looked like a birth mark. Then I started receiving more victims after each fire, with the same signs of psychosis and paranoia, also the same burn marks.” She expands on the reason she resorted to the mayor. “Luckily, each of the victims suffered only first-degree burns and we’re treating them now with skin care products. But it was getting out of hand and I’m glad my friend was able to contact you.”

The door the doctor opens next leads to a resting area occupied by a few patients, two standing afar, one on a wheelchair and the other on the sofa.

“Anton and Ivan are resting in their quarters,” the doctor said, “Alex was discharged by his family; they wanted to take him to the countryside in hopes to heal him.” She points at the two on the sofa, “Boris is your exception.”

“What happened to the others?”

The doctor faces Sir Integra, and the absence of space between them makes Kate in the back clench her fists at her sides. “Andrei was the first of the seven to be admitted in here, and the first to commit suicide. We thought it was a one-off, but a week later, Elian, the second victim, used the door knob to choke himself to death. We only found him when the nurse in shift found him in the next morning.”

That intrigues Kate.

“How long ago was that?” She demands.

The doctor looks at her surprised as though she didn’t notice her until now, “Um,” she clears her throat, “almost a week ago.”

“Where is the third victim now?”

The doctor looks into the master’s eyes again, countenances apologetic. “We had to restrain him,” she said, “he almost overdosed on a stolen stash of pills.”

“There must be a chronological order going on here,” Kate speculates, “I need to talk to the other victims.”

The blonde shakes her head sadly, “Like I said, Boris is your exceptions. The others are resting.” She points at the man sitting hunched on the sofa with his eyes on whatever is playing on the TV.

Kate tries to zoom past them, but her master’s hand on her elbow stops her.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Kate’s brows twitch in confusion. “I told you, I need to talk to him.” The glare aimed at her doesn’t relent, and Kate finally manages to decipher the meaning. “Can I?”

“Remember.”

Kate releases a small scoff, and says in a whisper which she’s certain only her master can hear. “You wanted my help, and I’m offering.”

The grip on her elbow aggravates. “Remember your place.”

As Kate winces, she also feels the grip easing the pressure on her arm. She wrenches it all the way to her side before stomping into the room, followed by the doctor who’s offered to translate.

 

Stepping carefully towards the middle-aged ginger named Boris, Kate takes a deep breath in before finally coming to a stop next to the sofa, Dr. Valchanov not far behind.

“Boris?” she starts, “My name is Kate. I'm here to see you. May I sit next to you?”

For a moment, the patient looks too out of it to care, but Kate is taken aback when Boris nods faintly. She thanks him as she seats herself slowly so he isn’t startled, while the blonde doctor remains standing.

“What are you watching” –Kate eyes the people in the box and how they dance under the illumination of string lights– “a movie?”

Boris remains silent even after the translation.

Kate glances over her shoulder at the two standing by the entrance, and she knows she is also being tested by the master and failure is not going to be forgiven. She clears her throat and looks at the patient again.

“Can I ask you a couple of questions? It won’t take long, I promise.” She coaxes, and only resumes after he gave her the cue following the doctor’s translation. “I’d like you to go back to the night of the fire, and try to remember what happened before.”

Boris’ eyes look away from the TV for the first time, but they flick to the floor. The fire has obviously affected him, and if Kate isn’t careful in her approach, she might worsen his case. The ginger male shakes his head from side to side, as though there’s a mental image he would like to erase or shake off. His gravelly hums become gruffer, not long and he is clutching at his hair with uttered broken meeps breaking the commotion.

A few stud nurses are summoned to control the male patient, and soon he gets whisked in a wheelchair towards a different door in the side and outside the lounge room.

Kate has cornered herself to keep out of harm’s way, and now she breathes out a bitter sigh. Looking up, she finds Sir Integra turning her back and leaving the entrance. With sagged shoulders, she goes after them along with the doctor who has collected herself after the predictable incident.

 

 

 

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

 

 

“Is that what you meant by ‘frenzy?’” Sir Integra asks, and the majority of the four people know she’s addressing the mayor. “Talk about understatement of the year.”

It’s the doctor who answers though, “Boris has actually been in high spirits lately. He only reacted to the reminder; most of the times, he is calm.”

Kate, at the side, remains quiet as she takes in the exchanged words with a frown creasing across her forehead. Actually, it’s true she is a little disappointed at having messed up back in the lounge area, but this slight ache in the back of her head is what kept her from pondering over the fiasco. If she’s getting a headache after recently activating the seal, it must mean that something inhuman is lurking in these bleached hallways. She tries to follow the source of it, and a couple of rearward steps lead her to a door nearby with the doctor’s name on it.

“Excuse me” Several eyes land on her. “What’s in this room?”

Dr. Valchanov squirms between the other three and approaches Kate instead, high heels harsh on the tiles. “My office,” she said, now twisting the knob and pushing the door open. “Why do you want to know?”

The other three catch up to them, the mayor craning his neck to peer into the said office.

“Actually,” Kate starts, ignoring the headache that has just intensified the moment the door was opened; but as she steps into the room, the doctor’s hand on her shoulder stops her. Kate looks up from the hand and into the blonde’s eyes. “I just want to know what happened to Andrei and Elian’s bodies.” She demands suddenly.

The blonde doctor raises her eyebrow at Kate. “Why do you want to know that?”

“I’d like to take a look at them.” Kate simply said. “I might be able to know more if I examine them.”

“What are you, some sort of a coroner?”

“Why are you evading my questions?” Kate’s sneaking suspicion slowly takes hold of the conversation, “I just want to see the bodies.”

“They were sent to the morgue,” the doctor says on a blown sigh, now closing the door again. “They’re still there.”

“For two weeks? I thought the cause of death was already determined.” Kate marvels.

“It was.” The doctor huffs this time. “But nobody has come to claim the bodies yet.”

“Oh, really?”

Dr. Valchanov shifts slightly, hands rubbing against one another. “Do you think I’m lying?”

“I didn’t say that.” Kate quickly defends despite her doubts. If this person is involved in any way, the interrogation might scare her off.

“I don’t care if you don’t believe me,” Somehow, the doctor has already taken it personally. “I cared for those two patients. I did my best with them, and when things got out of hand, I contacted the police and everyone I knew so they can help.” She said, “Don’t come at me now, judging my methods and questioning my ethics.”

“Good,” Kate says, “so you won’t mind giving us the address of the morgue?”

As Dr. Valchanov swivels to the other three for their opinion, Sir Integra’s glare next is so intense that it makes Kate clamper up immediately. “We’ve heard enough,” she drawls. “We’re leaving.”

The mayor blinks up, “is that it?”

“We still need to investigate the fire sites before we draw any conclusions.” Sir Integra assures him, and then turns to face the blonde doctor, “I apologize for the rudeness, I promise it won’t go disregarded.” –Kate pinpoints the trace of a smirk on the doctor’s lips and it already feels like she’s lost the battle– “We’ll come back tomorrow to finish our investigation.”

Dr. Valchanov takes the master’s hand in hers, shaking it firmly. “Thank you so much for all your help,” she smiles amiably, “we’ll be waiting.”

The mayor stays behind to make sure his friend doctor is fine, while the three leave again in the same vehicle.

 

Kate’s been readying for the lambasting that only comes after the car has left the doctor’s property.

“What did we say about permission?”

Kate snaps her head around only for her eyes to lock with her master’s, “I don’t understand,” she starts, doing her best to remain calm. “You wanted my help. You’re the one who brought me here and now you’re giving me shit for it?”

“So your definition of help is accusing people of lying if they aren’t cooperating?”

“That doctor is obviously hiding something,” Kate grouches, a little enraged that her master is taking that woman’s side despite the fidgeting and suspicious behavior. “I was only trying to get to the bottom of it.”

“No,” the other insisted, voice deep. “You were trying to pin this on Dr. Valchanov. Don’t forget that without her, we wouldn’t be here investigating.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Kate argues, “have you heard of victim playing? She’s manipulating us into believing she’s doing this out of the goodness of her heart. Perpetrators insert themselves into investigations all the time. They enjoy the power and the feeling that they’re smarter than us.  She could be the one causing all these fires for all we know.”

“That’s your argument?” Sir Integra looks rather taken aback.

“Don’t you think it’s weird how she was adamant on not letting us see the bodies?”

The master only shakes her head sadly after a long pause, “I think it was wrong of me to bring you here, that’s what.” Saying so, she takes out her phone and shows Kate the text on the screen. “Dr. Valchanov has just sent me the address of the morgue.”

Kate eyes the text for a beat, before finally sinking deeper in her side of the seat. She faces away and hangs her head shamefacedly. “Headaches,” she starts, and she sees her master’s reflection on the mirror, and how those cursed eyes remain on Kate’s profile, narrowed pensively. “I’ve had headaches for as long as I remember; however, they aren’t typical. They aren’t a side-effect to a condition either.” She sits up properly now, “I only get them when my magic reacts to an entity in my vicinity. Its intensity depends on the scale of how powerful or evil the other is.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I’m telling you this because” Kate faces her again, beseeching pupils trembling. “I felt it back in the doctor’s office. Something was in there, I could feel it. My head kept pounding nonstop.”

“You’re asking me to go after an innocent woman because your head said so?”

“You think I’m bluffing.” That’s a clear statement.

“You might be right,” the other turns her head away, “Maybe you do get headaches like some danger detector going off-kilter when on alert, or maybe all this is just part of a big scheme. You think after everything I’ll just trust whatever you tell me because you’re using enough magical jargons?”

They’re back to square one if Sir Integra is bringing her defenses up. Kate would hate for that to happen; she is giving this her all because she would like to make up for her weakness, and for all the times she let her master down. On the other hand, a part of Kate somehow understands how difficult this must be on Sir Integra. She is bringing Kate along in hopes to stop the fires, but Kate is all but demanding answers and passing allegations like she has any right to.

“I’m sorry,” Kate’s voice is small, almost faint. “I’ll watch what I say next time.”

“No,” Sir Integra is already shaking her head. “There is no next time. Walter is going to take you back to England tonight.”

“Sir” Kate’s eyes go wild with disbelief, “I know I was out of line with the doctor, but I also know that what happened there isn’t going to be repeated, I promise. It was my first time out in the field, and I don’t have enough experience with people.”

The master remains silent.

“I don’t think sending me back is a good idea.” She insists, and ignores the crack in her voice. “I made a mistake, but I haven’t been a magic-practitioner for years without learning to trust my instincts. I know something is going on here. I’m ready to get to the bottom of this, and I’m ready to do it your way.”

Sir Integra’s gaze trails to the rear-view mirror, meeting Walter’s, before addressing Kate again. “Steer clear of any unilateral actions,” she starts, “you aren’t to interrogate anyone without asking me first. You can’t go about deciding the course of the investigation without checking with me first.”

Kate is nodding away to each and every condition, eyes looking hopeful again. “I can do that.”

The master hums. “Good.”

 

Since they were officially invited on this case, the matter of jurisdiction didn’t rise up when their car swiveled past the ‘do no cross’ tape and into one of the fire sites downtown. A few minutes of asking the crime scene investigators and the lead detective about the cause of the fire told them that it was consistent with the other fires, but wasn’t an ordinary occurrence, and neither were the other eight fires since nothing had been determined after inspecting the debris.

 

The bodies at the morgue also had very little to offer, and no post-mortem changes have prompted new leads on the case. The Asian female coroner who pulled the two bodies from the refrigerators and showed them the charts of Andrei and Elian’s bodies has vacated the room, leaving the three to inspect and speculate.

“The perpetrator must have used some sort of a ruse.” Kate comments, eyes on Elian’s peaceful face.

Her master demands “What makes you say that?”

“Our arsonist obviously has a type; male brunets in their mid twenties, living alone, unsuccessful, have some sort of personal struggle. Elian struggled with depression after the death of his parents two years ago, and Andrei was seeing a therapist.” Glancing fervently up, and then down at the body, Kate says “I asked lead investigator when we visited the fire sites.”

“Alright, so they weren’t picked randomly,” Sir Integra concludes, “it means whoever tried to burn them had some sort of a relationship with them.”

“It’s possible,” Kate shrugs, “I still don’t understand why the last two victims haven’t been found yet. The MO up until the seventh fire has been consistent, but if she’s taking the bodies now, it means something must have happened.”

“They probably struggled,” Sir Integra entertains her theory, “She might have had to incapacitate them before they harmed her first for forensic measures.”

Kate finds that quite reasonable.

“Question is, if she put them out of action to incapacitate them, what does that mean for them?” Sir Integra’s voice is deep and bordering on hopelessness. “More to the point, does this mean she’s devolving?”

Kate is in a quandary, “If she is, that means it’s only a matter of time before she goes on a spree.”

The two share a worried look.

“We need to ask if they’ve found anything from the phone records,” Sir Integra turns around, ready to leave. “Someone must have talked to this person.”

“Wait,” Kate watches how her master whips around with a frown. “Take a look at the burn scar, tell me what you see.”

As Sir Integra carries on the request, and Kate, standing right across, finds that she’s peering a little too hard at the master while the latter studies the scar.

“That’s odd,” the master hums after a moment, “it looks like the burn scar was actually cauterized into the victim’s chest.”

Kate’s face lightens up at her master’s quick-wittiness. A burn caused by fire tends to look a little redder and puffier, but the patterns look shallow like a scratch mark, left by using some sort of a heated instrument. “Do you know what it entails?”

Sir Integra looks into Kate’s eyes, hers narrowing apprehensively. “The arsonist probably has some sort of medical knowledge.”

“Correct.” Kate nodded, now looking at the body instead. “I think we need to ask the police to look into places where the victims could have been to either to get treated or to make purchases, or to even visit someone. Places like pharmacies, hospices, and hospitals.”

“So you think they had been stalked?”

“I think we should consider all possibilities.” Kate pulls the veil over the dead man’s face, finally retreating towards the door’s direction.

 

 

  

 

 

There is chatter surrounding their table, sunny beams creating this sense of coziness throughout the rooftop, almost homey. Kate eats her food in silence, and listens into the conversation between Sir Integra and Walter, but she almost can’t keep track over the words that are difficult to hear amid the babble of other diners in their proximity.

Kate doesn’t remember herself sitting at the same table as Sir Integra and Walter before now; the former can understand but she realizes she’s never seen Walter stuffing his mouth with anything but righteous chiding. This is a little odd –their situation, too. She knows Walter is well aware of what the contract says, and perhaps knows Kate has signed it since, well, they’re here working a case.

Speaking of which, since they ruled out the medical involvement of the arsonist, Kate’s thoughts can’t help travelling back to that office room in Dr. Valchanov’s hospital, and the pounding it brought to her head. If Sir Integra is refusing to even consider the possibility, Kate knows she can’t dwell on it any more than she already has. She promised she wouldn’t act selfishly again, and since she can’t break a promise like that, she will have to ride the wave like everyone else and see how it pans out.

“Has he not called yet?” Sir Integra inquires; although she brought them here to have some lunch, she didn’t order anything for herself except for a glass of tea which she sips with rarefied glamour.

“I’m afraid not” Walter drinks his coffee with visible ease. “The authorities are doing their best, and, apparently, the NIS has also taken part in this investigation; they’ve put their best technical analyst on the case who is working up a geographic profile to increase the parameters.”

“That ought to save us time.” His master comments, shrug deceptively brash, and ending the conversation at that.

“Enjoying your meal?” Walter addresses Kate after a short pause.

Said girl looks up from the small pot in front of her in which she knows unnecessary amount of paprika has been added to the mixture of beef, mushrooms and eggs, and then flashes the older man a smile, “greatly.” She says, and she isn’t lying, “Would you like some?”

He mirrors her smile, “I’m fine,” He assures, “I enjoy my coffee better in times like these.”

One of Kate’s brows arches slowly to her hairline, and she doesn’t know if she wants to play this game. She hopes that’s enough cue for him to elaborate, and the man doesn’t disappoint her.

“The patch of a blue sky, the warm shades of the sun and the lively chatter in my ears” She thinks it’s the end of it, but he proves he is not very fond of the game because he gives the answer eventually “The weather, miss.”

“You’re too sentimental, Walter.” Sir Integra is the one who comments.

Kate admires the oneness one could feel with nature if they just open their hearts and appreciate the little things for what they are, and is vaguely reminded of a poem –Emily’s; So safer – guess – with just my soul upon the window pane Where other creatures put their eyes – Incautious – of the Sun – this verse always gets to her…

Walter suddenly chuckles, and lifts his mug again to overcome his blush. “I cannot help it,” he lets out a small breath, “I admire beauty, even through fallen petals.”

At that, Kate perks up, scanning her surroundings with an unusual edge in her eyes. She looks at the butler again. “I’m sorry, what did you just say?”

The two behold her with narrowed stares.

“Just now, did you say petals?” She urges.

“Yes,” He confirms in his oddly smooth yet gruff voice, “What of it, Miss Kate?”

She drops her spoon into the stew pot, the descriptor having knocked her off her socks. She motions to him to show her the photos of the victims, which he does after contemplating her and his master for a moment. Kate snatches a photo of Elian’s body from the pile. “I can’t believe I missed this,” Kate marvels, “It’s been staring me in the face this whole time!”

“What has?”

Kate doesn’t miss on the impatient growl in her master’s voice, and, so, she peers up with this impish glint in her eyes. “We were looking at this the wrong way,” She started, now straitening in her chair. “We concluded that the burn marks were scratches, but they are actually an engraving. I thought it was a coincidence they were shaped like this, or it meant something to the arsonist, but when Walter was just talking now, he mentioned petals, and it clicked. I think that’s it.”

“What is it already?”

Kate shows her the photo, one sharp nailed index tapping the photo over the burn mark. “These are shaped like flower petals.”

After inspecting the photo for a beat, the master lifts a dangerous brow at the girl, “so?”

“Have you ever heard of Samodivas?” Following Walter’s shake of head and their master’s slight eyebrow twitch, Kate explains “They’re nymphs, woodland fairies. They are divine, but also compass rage with an affinity for fire.”

“Are you telling me that the fires were the work of Tinkerbell?”

Kate almost barks a laugh at the illustration her master has so eloquently portrayed, but decides to keep her focus on her findings instead. “Think about it, Samodivas inhabit the Balkan Mountains, and just ponder our location for a moment. They’re said to be blonde, tall and slender women who drive men crazy with  lust; what a coincidence that the person you’ve been pinning since we set foot into that clinic actually fits the profile –”

“You watch your tongue.” Sir Integra is interjecting quickly to retaliate.

That doesn’t deter Kate, “ _and_  keeps the victims under her lock and key.” She throws a thumb over her shoulder at the general direction of the hospital. “We need to go back there. I need to try to talk to Boris again.”

Sir Integra is already dismissing the idea. “You had your chance, I don’t suppose the doctor is going to let you, or any of us, near her patient again.”

“Exactly!” Kate says in a hushed gush, “Don’t you think it odd that the same doctor was our interpreter –she must have played with my words which caused Boris to freak out.”

By now, Sir Integra seems undecided, God, just a push and she’ll set Kate loose on this case.

“If I may, Sir” It’s Walter who clears his throat for their attention, and he gets it. “I suppose the girl has a point –”

“Not a very valid one.” The master grouses.

“Maybe so,” he says smoothly, “but we must consider all our options, and they all lead me to believe that the Doctor being somehow involved is actually not that far-fetched. She does have the patients at her mercy now, and, oddly enough, they are still turning up dead under her watch.”

“We don’t have any evidence to prove that, so we still cannot comprehend her.”

“True,” Walter agrees wholeheartedly. “However, this isn’t an open-and-shut case, nor it is ordinary, we brought the girl to rule out the work of witchery, and she has proven it. Now, we must take action.”

After a beat where Sir Integra’s brow worked itself into a furrow, she finally blows a sigh. “Alright,” she says, and the other two secretly delight. “I’d like to know how we’re going to proceed. I don’t suppose bringing an interpreter to the hospital would bode well with the doctor.”

“I suppose not.” Walter also scowls.

Kate brings the photos together, collects them into a bundle and says “Leave it to me.”  

 

 

********

 

 

 

“Can you actually be in two places at once, or are you impugning an illusion?”

Kate looks away from the night sky outside the window of her hotel room, and watches the clench of her master’s jaw, knows the infamous trait of having scant patience is going to make itself visible again, and, so, despite knowing how complex magic can be and how immeasurable and deconstructable its depths or roots are, she settles on explaining and, perhaps, expanding even more than decided.

“A bit of both?” Kate says, shrugging a shoulder. “I can project my senses elsewhere and be in two places at the same time, but such a projection has no physical body. If the doctor is the one we seek, our approach has to be smooth so she cannot learn about my trick. We must indulge her sense of control over the situation until I get intel from Boris.”

Sir Integra is perched on the stool of that window, her arms crossed over her chest. She twists her lips slightly like she is still trying to make head or tail of what she’s just learned about the spell Kate suggested using on Boris back when they were still in that rooftop restaurant. “How are you going to do that?”

 “Vernacular Exchange” Kate starts, “It’s a spell, one that can attach colloquial and stilted speech into one understanding, be it teenage argot or formal speech.”

 “Would you be able to speak and understand Bulgarian, then?”

Kate is standing before her master, hands at her sides. “Not precisely,” she said, “I would be able to understand, and so would Boris, but none of us will speak the other’s language. It’s just the interpretation will be integrated equally for him and I both.”

“Is it painful?”

“He might feel a slight discomfort, but the sensation won’t last.”

“Does it have any side-effects, permanent or temporary?”

Kate shakes her head. “Not to my knowledge,” She says, “I have used it before on myself; I’d have noticed if I suddenly had speech impediment.”

“Your fair degree of barbed wit is impediment enough,” Sir Integra pushes off the stool and stands to full height. “We’re going at eight. Don’t be late.”

The entire time they were here, and even a little prior, Sir Integra’s body has seemed constantly tense like she is bracing for a danger to jump on her from any random corner. Kate has noted, with distinct unease, that her master’s posture would become taut whenever she’s around Kate, and the girl, although fathoming the reason behind it –kind of–, she is still unable to accept it.

“Wait” she can’t believe herself but she knows for certain it can’t be taken back since her master has just stopped in her track and reeled her head. Kate gulps the lump lodged in her throat and twines her fingers to pop them, just to give herself some sort of anchor. “You can” –she gulps again– “you can stay.”

There’s confusion at first spreading across Sir Integra’s features, before she hardens her glare again as though finally pinpointing the hint but thing it nonetheless. She keeps her retort however, and faces forward again, finally exiting the room and slamming the door shut behind her.

Well, that went better than Kate had feared.

She knows she lost that privilege the minute they set foot into that clearing in the woods; in fact, Sir Integra embracing her was just part of a grander plan the master and her group had concocted to keep Kate under their radar, but foolishly she still believes that there had been moments where Sir Integra’s kisses were genuine.

It’s been almost a month since last time they shared a bed together, and, taking the nudity that greeted her right before boarding the jet to come here, and the jealousy that gnawed at her heart back in the hospital this morning, and the closeness with her master lately, Kate doesn’t think she can hold on much longer.

 

 

The next morning dawns, chilly and sunny; at one point during the night, Kate had to force herself to get some rest because she knew that, with the seal activated, she would have to rely on spells only and that can weaken her. She’s putting on her shoes by the door when Walter knocks on it, telling her it’s time.

 

Inside the backseat of the car, Kate finds her master already perched with today’s paper spread over her crossed legs, and when she greets her, a nod is all she receives for her trouble.

The spacious vehicle moves, and it takes Walter as much as yesterday’s timing to get to Dr. Valchanov’s clinic. All the while, Kate has tried to read more emotions off her master’s profile about what transpired the night before, but was, sadly, unsuccessful.

The mayor isn’t there to welcome them, but the doctor is, and it dawns on Kate that she must change tactics if she wants to get somewhere with the woman. If she is what Kate is suspecting she is, then confrontation isn’t the best course of action.

She leads them to the lounge area again, where Boris is finishing that movie –Kate assumes is a show because the people in it look like the same people but in different settings now. The doctor goes on about how her patient is not to be disturbed, especially not by Kate again, taking into account that Kate was the reason he had that mental breakdown yesterday.

“How is your investigation going, any progress, I hope?”

Kate shares a knowing look with her master, who was rubbing her gloved fingers together beside her hip and, sensing Kate’s lingering stare on her profile, snapped her head up, silently telling her to distract the doctor and get her off her back so Kate can interrogate Boris without anyone misinterpreting her words and banning her plans.

Sir Integra’s knowing look turns sharp at the realization of what Kate is wordlessly asking her to do, but she finds that she must comply if they are to attest the doctor’s involvement. She reels towards the blonde woman, features schooled and her stare becoming flirtatious, making Kate roll her eyes a little. “Doctor,” she starts, her voice smoky “I’ll tell you if you’ll indulge some questions of my own.”

Dr. Valchanov inspects the change in demeanor and then Boris before shaking her head on a cordial smile, “of course.” She says, but she still lingers her stare on Kate as though a part of her keeping vigilant about the girl. The doctor scans the lounge area one last time before leading Sir Integra and the others out and into the hallway.

Kate has managed to create another projection of herself during their talk, and now she remains behind, staring at their retreating backs. She is surprised when Sir Integra glances over her shoulder, as though confirming the legitimacy of The Duality spell Kate boasted about the night before and hence the initiation of their plan.

As long as the doctor stays away from being physical with the illusion Kate created of herself, everything should go the way they planned.

 

Kate skulks towards Boris, her posture easing with each step taking her closer; she doesn’t know whether or not the suicide theory the doctor convinced them with was true, but she knows that she can’t just wait to find out knowing there are two bodies in the morgue and another threat of suicide attempt to add to the tally.

Boris hasn’t noticed her approaching him from the back; if he sees her, it might prompt his fear, and Kate can’t risk that. She decides to cast the Vernacular Exchange spell on him while he is distracted by the TV, and she senses the way he tenses after the spell is casted on him but soon relaxes as the uncomfortable clench of the spell eases up on him. She takes a deep breath in and lets it out; she cannot fail, a lot of victims are relying on this to work, including the missing two.

Kate places two hands on the man’s shoulders from the back and leans in just a little so the other nurses won’t hear. If she wants Boris to cooperate, this is her best bet. “Boris,” she says, “can you understand me?”

Boris is still like a rock for beat, but his head slowly nods.

Clearing her throat, Kate nods back. “Listen to me, and listen well, I’m here to help you. I know what you’re up against, and I wish to put a stop to her so she doesn’t hurt any more men. But I cannot do that without your aid;”

Boris has started squirming in the middle of it, but his eyes remain on the TV screen, and Kate’s hands remain gripped on his shoulders.

“Relax,” she tells him in a whisper, and hopes their position isn’t too suspicious. “I promise I’m not here to hurt you.”

“What do you need?”

Kate is slightly surprised by the lucidity in the man’s voice, “I need to know if Doctor Valchanov is involved.”

Boris is, again, quiet for a long pause, but Kate soon senses the way his tense shoulder start to go lax under her hands. “I’m not a mad man.”

“I didn’t come here to accuse you of anything, Boris.”

“Nobody believed me, and now I must look crazy.” His voice is less gruff than yesterday. “Why should I trust you?”

“You shouldn’t,” Kate simply says. “I’m not doing this for you only or the other victims, or the two missing men, I’m also doing this for myself.”

“Alright,” Boris said after a pregnant pause.

Kate retracts her hands and sidesteps the sofa, finally sitting beside the patient who’s scrutinizing her through narrowed eyes.

“It’s you.”

Kate beams, “It’s me,” she starts, and holds up a hand, “and before you go on about your major freak-out yesterday, I wasn’t the cause of it.”

Boris returns his eyes to the TV. “Why did you ask if Dr. Valchanov is involved?”

Kate leans on the backrest, and sinks a little deeper into the sofa. “Let’s just say I have my reasons, do you deny?”

Boris shrugs, “I can’t confirm either.”

“What did she tell you during the translation?”

Boris’ brows furrow more over his deep set blue eyes, “that you and your people were here to finish me off.”

And that is all the proof Kate needed.

“Who was the person who set your place on fire, do you know?”

He lowers his eyes to think for a moment, “No, but she looked familiar.”

“Someone you knew?”

He shrugs slightly, “Maybe,” he said, and suddenly snapped reproaching eyes at Kate that the girl needed to fist her hands to keep from recoiling. “You need to get me out of here,” he starts, “This place is strange, and I’ll lose my mind if I stay.”

Nibbling at her bottom lip, Kate nods “that’s what I’m trying to do. But it isn’t going to be easy if Dr. Valchanov keeps you under tight watch.”

He blows a weary sigh, “I don’t know if she’s in it, but if you’re really here to help then that’s all the assurance I need. The woman who set my place on fire was blonde and tall. That’s all I remember.”

Against her better judgment, Kate places a hand on Boris’ shoulder in assertion. “That’s good enough.” She said, “Thank you.”

Boris returns his eyes to the TV and pays no heed when Kate lifts up and walks towards the entryway, following a muttered spell, her body starts disintegrating into billions of specks of light that soon travel outside one of the slightly open window at the side and travels through the air towards the parked car outside. When the shiny particles infiltrate the vehicle through the window at the backseat, they fuse together, and Kate, back in flesh and bones, relaxes at last for having performed the spell with no hindrances.

The wait was long before Walter came out of the building first, followed by Sir Integra and the illusion of Kate. They climb down the set of stairs and walk past the beautiful gardens, finally making it to the vehicle. As soon as the illusion of Kate reaches the metal door, it dissipates as if it were never there.

Sir Integra wasted only seconds to take in what has just happened to the scried illusion before getting into her seat. She raises a brow at the girl she finds inside, already seated and comfortable.

“I take it it went well?”

Walter starts the engine, finally moving the car away from the ominous building.

Kate nods absentmindedly; something Boris said about the happenings of the hospital has made Kate even more eager to deal with the Samodiva doctor. “What about you?” Although she knows the answer to that question since she divided her consciousness to create the illusion, she still feels like she would lose her mind not interacting with the master despite the fake normalcy.

Sir Integra puts a leg over the other, a gloved hand on her lap and the other elbow on the window ledge. She leans on her knuckles and breathes out a small sigh, “Not much to go on,” she starts, her voice deep and silvery, “We requested seeing the other fire victims in her clinic, but Dr. Valchanov refused. I do not know how else to press; threats are out of the question.”

Kate beholds her master with attentive eyes. “There will be no need for that, sir.” She said, “Boris told me the doctor’s translation was purposefully faulty. Not only that, but it seems like the arsonist we’re looking for has a lot in common with the doctor; they’re both tall blondes.”

There’s an icy glare in the master’s eyes. “Are you absolutely sure?”

“One hundred percent,” Kate affirms, “Boris was very distraught about his stay in the clinic, said he wished to leave already. He was quite coherent when we talked, which leads me to think that the frenzy state is something forced on them, not a byproduct of the fire.”

“I see,” Sir Integra hums distractedly.

“What’s the plan now?” She feels rather than sees Walter’s eyes on them from the rear-view, but, witnessing her master’s confusion, she decides not to look away.

Sir Integra catches Walter’s stare, and, instead of anger, she shares a knowing nod with him. “We confront her.”

Kate leans back in her seat, slides her eyes to the window at her side and sighs. “Confrontation it is, then.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poem: Emily Dickinson - Before I Got My Eye


	15. Chapter 15

 

 

The one to carry on the confrontation, however, wasn’t Kate; for all their lengthy talks of her crime-fighting, it was the organization’s vampiric assassin, Alucard, who was put on it. It was a last-minute decision taken by the master who concluded the compromising situation they’d end up in would Kate take part in the hunt.

Kate acquiesced to Sir Integra’s orders, although begrudgingly, and sit the hunt out to enjoy the reprieve which she knew wouldn’t last long if and when another came up soon after this one.

Her stay in Bulgaria now comes to an end as Walter leads her out of the hotel they’ve been staying at, and to the car waiting outside to take them to the landing field the jet dropped them at two or three days ago. But unlike before, she doesn’t find the master inside the vehicle. Her worded inquiry goes unanswered by Walter who must have been instructed to ignore conversing with ‘the witch’, which Kate finds extremely ridiculous. She’s had several chances to harm them if she wanted to, and they still think they can contain her by ignoring her questions?

Eying the monotonous greenery zooming past them as the car grooves on the road, undisturbed by tarred bumps, Kate discerns a small fire in an open clearing just beyond some pine trees that was obviously set up by those three teenagers surrounding it; they’re drinking beer and laughing at one of their friends who’s making obscene gestures with his rear. She almost looks away; she has no need watching that. But the shadow of the fire, dancing and flickering like an over-sized flower petal, brings here to a shocking discovery.

Kate might have been too hasty ruling out the culprit, and now it’s Alucard who has to pay the price. Of course it seemed odd that all the evidence from their examination of the supernatural was pointing at the doctor while the official investigation didn’t even include her. She taps at the window separating her from Walter, barking at him to pull over.

The ride to the landing field comes to a short cut soon after, and Kate fiddles with the door for the handle, pulls it and pushes out of the vehicle to head to Walter.

“We need to go back!” She demands, finally meeting Walter by the front of the car.

“What are you saying,” he starts, “I have orders to return you to England today.”

“I know,” Kate leans forward, “but we can’t just yet. Try to contact Sir Integra, tell her to wait until we get there.”

“What is the meaning of this?” Although he looks confused, he still takes out his phone from his chest pocket and dials their master’s number.

Kate doesn’t answer as they both listen to the prolonged rings echoing off the phone, before Sir Integra’s voice is heard. As Walter parts his lips to explain the situation, Kate interjects.

“Where are you?”

There’s a pause, Sir Integra probably questioning why she’s being accosted by her 'slave' before finally deciding to provide any answers. “Why?”

“Don’t attack now,” Kate says after wetting her lips; what she’s about to tell them is not going to appease to anyone but she finds that she must. “I may have been incorrect about the thing we’re facing. The bodies had three lotus-shaped patterns on their sternums, but maybe they don’t look like petals at all.”

There’s a sigh in the other end of the line and then a huff, “I already sent Alucard after the doctor.”

“We might be facing two entities.”

A moment of terror seizes them all, but Sir Integra drawls, “He has back-up.”

Kate, refusing to envision the punishments that could follow for putting Sir Integra’s most trusted in danger, looks for the alternative. “Alright, alright,” she said, “it’s all fine. A slight change in the plan, that’s all.”

“If I find out that you tricked me, I will not be lenient.” Sir Integra warns.

Instead of reasoning that Kate has also just followed the strewn evidences, she sticks to explaining what’s wrong with her theory. “We’re still dealing with a nymph, just one that serves a deity. The shapes on those bodies look like flames, not petals, which means it was the work of a Servant Lampad.”

“How do you destroy them?”

“By eliminating the source of their power,” Kate answers, “Back in Dr. Valchanov’s office, I could feel a malevolent aura inside. I think she is harboring the Lampad. If she really is, then she’s the one controlling it with her witchery. You have to kill Dr. Valchanov in her deity form, that’s the only way to weaken her servant as well.”

“I’ll send word.” That’s all Sir Integra says before ending the call.

Kate shares a look with Walter, who shakes his head sadly.

“We should go.”

Kate demurs, “I should probably help them.”

Walter is already heading to his side of the car, “You’ll only be in their way. Come, get in the car. We must get to the jet.”

Defeated, Kate heads to the backseat and accepts how this has constricted her thoughts and decisions. If Walter had orders, then there’s nothing that can be said or done to convince him to let Kate back to that hotel.

 

 

Upon reaching the Hellsing mansion, Kate vacates the vehicle and heads to the stairs at the porch; the realization that she is being accompanied by Walter to the door is proven when Fajr exits the front door and grinds to a halt in front of them. Kate’s eyes go wide; it’s been weeks since she’s talked with him, and, now it feels like the walls of first-meetings awkwardness are back up between them.

Fajr’s eyes look from Walter to hers, before they remain on Kate’s, and soon as said girl parts her lips to speak, Fajr nods like he already knows what she wanted to say, he bows slightly to Walter before walking past them, leaving Kate to goggle after his retreating form.

That look of anticipation on Kate’s face falls as she realizes what she is, to everyone working here. She is no longer the human maid helping around like everyone else and retreating for the day after the chores have been carried out; she is the monster who betrayed the master and turned her into a thing. There’s no redeeming after that, there’s no warranted forgiveness for that. And Kate has come to that conclusion a while ago, and has vouched to strive to change it.

Kate is led to her new room again, and instructed to stay inside as the contract states. Knowing she can’t venture anywhere without getting her master’s permission first, Kate settles for a shower. She is surprised to find a flat screen installed to the wall across the bed, and that’s another thing she can kill time with until her master comes back from the hunt.

 

It is deep into the night when Kate’s eyes snap open, the remnants of a heavy dream slowly burning out like the ends of a cigarette. She stares at the ceiling, parts of the plaster slowly focusing despite the darkness, and her ears following the thumps of her heart as they slowly reduce to a normal pulsation. She tries to turn to sleep on her side, but the silhouette on the armchair sends her lurching forward with fear for her life; what if it’s one of the men from the woods, here to finish their assignment?

“Who–…?”

The question isn’t granted, but Kate already gets hers when she peers through the darkness at the length of that person’s long hair made visible by the half moon’s shining halo, and the redness in one of their eyes stressed by the dimness in the rest of the room.

“Sir?” it is confirmed when the other’s position shifts at that. Elated, Kate removes the quilt and gets out of bed, “when did you get back?”

“Just now.”

Kate walks up to her master, naked feet making the maneuver look stealthy when it’s far from it, and the loud beats of Kate’s heart is what proves it. She comes to a smooth stop in front of the master and tries to pinpoint her expression despite the dimness. “How did it go?”

Sir Integra is sitting with her elbows on her parted knees, leaning forward with her intertwined knuckles under her chin. “Bloody,” she said, “Dr. Valchanov proved to be quite the problematic creature, but she was the creature we were looking for, so that takes care of that. The theory of a servant Lampad was confirmed after a raid on the clinic led by Seras.” She said, and added “It was a successful mission, nevertheless.”

Alright, sounds like good news. “Then why do you look so cross?”

The Alpha lifts her different-colored eyes, they don’t look harsh or cold, there’s just a slight familiar curiosity in them. “How did you figure it out?”

Kate’s worry leaves her body, and her expression softens, “My headaches.” She said, now approaching her master despite every nerve in her warning her not to. “I already told you that my headaches work as a warning. Besides, all the evidence led us all to the same conclusion –”

“No,” Sir Integra Interjects, “How did you know about the Lampad. That wasn’t easy to spot.”

“I didn’t, not at first, but I thought the pattern over, and included all possibilities. That’s all.” Kate’s eyes remain on her master’s form, the proximity, the red eye and its blue twin and she suddenly feels yearning enveloping her. What Sir Integra says to that is disembodied as Kate sees flashes of firm, bigger hands manhandling her body, and, accompanying yearning, there’s this heat that suddenly explodes in her.

Something must have given because, next, Sir Integra snaps defiant eyes to Kate’s abdomen.

“What’s that smell?”

Kate is reminded of the new werewolfic feats of her master now that the bite is in effect although partially, and she blows a soft chuckle, “It’s harmless,” she assures, and swiftly gets down to her knees a little between Sir Integra’s knees. “Just my arousal, perhaps”

The Alpha falls silent, but looks wary.

Looking up, Kate tacks on “Which might become more intense, if you indulge this one request of mine?”

“You’ve lost that privilege a long time ago.” The other simply says.

Kate almost caves in after deciphering the insinuation, but, thinking back on all those times Sir Integra joined their bodies together, and how amazing and safe it’d felt, she makes up her mind. “I’ll do it,” she starts, “that way, you won’t feel like you’re part of the decision. You won’t have to take responsibility for anything” –placing a slightly trembling hand on the master’s knee and feeling the muscle under her palm tense up, she pushes for more– “You can blame it all on me, sir.”

The eye contact lasts for only a few seconds before Kate drags that hand poised over her master’s knee up to the groin, fisting the bulge there.

“Since you just go back, I’ll try to make it quick so you can rest too.” Kate notes out, now gently stroking the bulge and exulting in the way her master sighs on a ‘Jesus’ uttered in a whisper.

Yes, Jesus, only a few strokes and Sir Integra’s cock was adding more in volume, growing under her slacks like a tent coming together. Kate felt the heat in her abdomen devouring her whole body, consuming her intellectual and rendering it inane like she can’t think beyond the insistence of wanting that cock inside her.

With a fluidity that amazes even her, Kate manages to unbutton the slacks single-handedly, the other working the zipper down. She pulls the waistband of the pants along with the boxers', giving the veiny cock some relief at last as it springs free from its confinement.

Sir Integra has relaxed to the back, arms outstretching across the headrest of the armchair, and her odd eyes watching the girl who is knelt between her parted legs.

One fervent glance up at her master shows Kate that this is already heading the way it should; the way they both want it to. She fists the hard length, prompting a deep hiss from the master. Unbidden, the brunette leans forward; her fist on the cock hasn’t eased, in fact, it has hastened its up-and-down movements, making the member stickier. She parts her lips and snakes her tongue out, making it touch the head oozing precum. The sensation is both unsettling and pleasant for Kate, but back-arching for the master.  

The shy tongue lapping on the crown of the wet cock becomes more daring as Kate encircles her plump lips round the gland, and slowly bows, taking the hard length in inch by inch and causing her master to fall utterly speechless.

There is nothing that can compensate this closeness where Sir Integra’s body is literally invading Kate’s, take it the upper end or the lower, nothing has that faculty of making two different things feel like they have the same weight and worth. Kate knows that well; the way her mouth is filled with her master’s cock, and the way her nose is filled with her master’s scent are irreplaceable.

Instead of inching on the cock, Kate bobs her head up and down, and in each time she tries to take it deeper down to her throat and enjoy her master’s little sighs. Her hands clasp over the firmly muscled thighs of her master’s, and nudges them slightly farther apart so she can fit in-between.  

It doesn’t take long before Kate is slurping away on that cock, lapping at the gland at times only to sweep the whole thing inside her mouth again, with low, throaty and choked-off noises expressing her approval. If it were anyone else’s, Kate is certain she wouldn’t have even looked at it, but, with Sir Integra, it is different; the master, just by sitting majestically, makes Kate all woozy in the head. She slides a hand down to her own crotch, fingertips making an experimental valuation of just how wet she is; she knows she’s wet, she just wants to knows if it’d be enough to make the cock slide easily in without prepping.

This isn’t enough; in fact, this is far from enough.

Knowing that she’s wetter than an Omega on the verge of heat, Kate pulls away altogether and lifts up, she keeps her eyes on her master’s as she fidgets with the frill at the hem of her nightgown, finally grabbing on it and pulling it past her head. As she drops the gown at the side, she doesn’t fail to notice how her master is taking in her naked body, a look between bare lecherousness and latent worshiping. After her shower, Kate’s body didn’t feel apt to being constricted by something like underwear. She is glad for that decision, because, now, she gets to be upheld with interest.

The sight of the leaking hard-on that used to ravish her without shame is so inviting; beside the heat, Kate feels this deep need to sate an itch beneath her skin, and the only way to do that is to entomb that cock inside her pussy which has been throbbing the moment the novel shape that lodged on the armchair turned out to be her master.

“I can’t –I need you, sir” Kate’s mouth is running at this point, words rushing to describe her bottomless want but failing miserably. “In me” Saying so, she mounts her master’s lap without waiting for admonishments, knees parted at each side of Sir Integra’s hips, and forearms draping over those broad shoulders.

Instead of lathing dressing-downs, Sir Integra brings her gloved hands to Kate’s thighs and corrects their position a little bit, while the girl remains squatted atop her. Then, the master’s flexibility makes an impression when one of her hands goes over the small of Kate’s back, lower to her ass cheeks and then down to the rim, causing the girl to buckle against that hand, which, soon, fondles her drenched entrance.

With her pupils sinking behind her lids, Kate gives her mind and body a moment to absorb the sensation which she hasn’t had much of in the past few weeks. Those two skillful and insistent fingers keep rubbing the outside of her pussy, causing, quite in next to no time, shallow obscene sloshes: Kate knows she’s ready.

“That’s enough,” she gasps, her sight refocusing again, “put it in, sir, please.”

 The master removes her hand, then quickly replacing it with her cock. “Sit up for me” she says and waits for Kate to follow the order, and only inserts the cock when Kate’s pussy is hovering just over the head of the hard cock. “Slowly.”

Kate knows that’s a warning because right after she felt the head of the cock nudging her entrance, she went for ducking her hips which caused a slight painful flare from it. “I know, I know” Kate now grits out, “it’s just” she can’t tell her master she’s ‘just too horny and doesn’t know if she can have more rein on this’.

Following the order, Kate feels the cock slowly penetrating her pussy; she doesn’t remember this cock being this fat, but the sensation is all too welcome. Her chest heaves and her lungs let out continuous small puffs of air, a state which the master has tried to help Kate control by telling her to breathe. It all comes to a deafening pause when the master has fully bottomed out inside Kate’s pussy.

Shallow breathing fills the space as Kate gets used to the added stuffing, while Sir Integra grits against the urge to move.

“Any plans on getting the show started tonight?” –Sir Integra drawls– “I’m getting old here.”

Huffing with no animosity, Kate sits up properly on the cock, her forearms on the master’s shoulders the only thing supporting her weight.  She looks at all of Sir Integra’s face again, and the scars almost make her resolve falter but she already made her decisions about that. Right now, it’s about correcting the past, and them being connected like this sounds like a good start.

Tightening her hold on her master’s shoulders, Kate rolls her hips in a motion so deliberately unhurried thinking she’d cause the other some sort of soft reaction, so to speak, she is taken aback by the pleasure that shoots through her instead, and she tosses her head to the back, her puffs of air morphing into moans and small whines.

Oh, how she missed this!

“Oh God,” she grouses but without sternness, “I’ve wanted this for so fucking long now!” Saying so, she starts moving up and down on the cock instead of grinding or rolling her hips on it, giving herself and her master the best of feelings. She knows –she feels Sir Integra’s gloved hands on her hips, holding her in place, and she loves it so much.

There’s absolutely nothing that can explain this pleasure and do it justice, it is beyond anything Kate’s felt before. The hotness and the fullness, as well as the ticklishness, it’s all too much in a good, perfect and completing way that Kate loses command over her hips in just a short while.

As she rides her master, she ignores the shameless way with which she is moaning, and with which her breasts are bouncing along with the pendant of her necklace. She must have been at it for a while because, next, Sir Integra rounds her back with her much larger arms to immobilize her, before snapping her hips and causing the breath to knock out of Kate’s lungs. The latter only embraces her master’s neck, fighting between edging away from the over-excessive pleasure or allowing the feeling to grow. When she finds she can do neither, she buries her face into the crook of her master’s neck, bares her teeth and bites on the skin, causing the said master a slight hiss.

The vigorous thrusts start to slow down a bit, and, so, Kate loosens the clamp of her jaw on her master’s shoulder. She pulls away to face the other, afraid of the reproach she might find in those odd eyes. She is surprised she doesn’t.

“Sorry about that,” it still doesn’t mean she can’t apologize for being too brazen. “It was getting a little too much.”

In response, Sir Integra scrunches up her nose, “There’s that smell again” she said in a tone of wonderment, “so heady.”

Softening on a smiling, Kate brings her fingers to the back of the master’s head and playing with the locks. “That’s mine.” She notes out, “I’m still really, desperately turned on for you. You have to do something about it.”

At that, two large and gloved hands cup Kate’s ass cheeks, causing her a little gasp and a small arch of her back. They squeeze the meat, before Sir Integra thrusts into Kate again, the sound of skin hitting skin so hollow but lewd at the same time.

“Oh, fuck!” Kate grips tighter on the other’s shoulder, head thrown back in absolute ecstasy. “Right there! Oh, God, yes.”

The momentum of the thrusts doesn’t let up in the next few moments Kate is being pounded into. Her vision whitens out suddenly as she reaches the abrupt climax, her flesh walls compressing on the ravishing cock inside her, making her master grunt deeply.

When Kate comes down from the afterglow, she realizes she is muttering nonsensical complaints about not even being warned first. But she still loved it all as well.

Sir Integra is still hard, but she has paused to give Kate a moment to ride out her compressions. She splays her hands on Kate’s breasts and cups them, and repeats the action a few times until Kate’s eyes are focused again.

“Holy wow” Kate gasps, “that felt amazing.”

Unpredictably, Kate’s body gets maneuvered and flipped so she is on the chair instead with her legs parted. She sees the flame in her master’s eyes, and all words of playful ridicule are lost when she mirrors the look.

The master rights their position again so that Kate is almost folded and squeezed in and her legs spread open, she rests her own knees on the edge of the armchair for anchoring, and her hands at either side of Kate’s torso.

There are no warnings given when Sir Integra’s hips lurch forward all the way to the hilt, and then backward to the crown, and she does it again and again and again. Kate has tossed her head to the back, bearing her neck in a forced, pleasure-clouded silence, before a scream tears right out of her lungs.

“Oh, my God!” she’s been holding on to the armrests of the chair but now she clings to her master’s shoulders again, “You’re fucking me into the chair –” another silent gasp steals her words as Sir Integra’s pistons become even more robust. “P-please!” Sobbing now, Kate attempts to inch herself away from this maddening pleasure but the confined space only allows her to squirm.

Just as suddenly, burning cum shoots into her womb, causing Kate another desperate sob as the master’s cock still fucks her through her ejaculation, making the spilling cum to overflow and trickle down the creak of Kate’s ass.

Sir Integra pulls out her somewhat flaccid cock, and levers up, her chest heaving.

Kate remains on the armchair, legs spread open, pussy pulsating and forcing more cum to leak out, and hair a mess. Her glossy eyes can’t focus enough to examine the look on her master’s face, but she knows she is being gawked at.

Between this blink and the next, Kate finally realizes that she is by herself in the room, again.

 

 

*******

 

 

 

Over the course of a week, and maybe more, only Katrina breaks the monotony of exercised present where Kate wakes up, takes her breakfast and then tries to distract from the practiced routine that follows afterward.  

There’s only one time where her request to phone her family made a change in her routine, and, knowing that they were well and wishing her luck with whatever work she’s doing, she tolerated her new reality.

 

Thinking back on it, there’s a lot Kate can say about that night after their return from Bulgaria. For one, the sex was unsatisfactory since she had vouched for more. She doesn’t understand, although she was the one who offered, and initiated, Sir Integra still insisted on treading a little  _too_  carefully and hence the half-hearted sex. More than that, it’s been a week and so and Katrina is the only one who’s been in and out of that door, which brings Kate to the second thing she can say about that night. It’s been too long again; although this longevity can hardly compare to the one which had lasted for a month. Kate has seriously believed that after having sex again, the master would change her mind about sleeping with Kate, and would even allow its frequency.

It is all out of hand, really.

Kate knows Prof. Hailey is being ‘interrogated’ down in the dungeons, and Sir Integra is present at those most of the time which does not leave much room for negotiations here. Kate needs to give this and her master more time.

 

"This week's done me in already.” Katrina lets out a weary sigh, “and it's only Wednesday. I'm cream crackered."

Granted, trying to converse with Katrina at first was like trying to pet a hissing cat; but, between last month and this, she’s mellowed out. She replies with more than curt nods and firm headshakes now, and, more often than not, she initiates the talk when it’s just her and Kate, which is pretty much all the freaking time.

Like right now, for example.

The girls are in the balcony, drinking tea while seated on the two chairs Katrina has replaced there in the early morning; she has come rushing in, gushing on about the weather forecast promising a mildly sunny day with no wind. Kate has grumbled that it could still turn cloudy because the weather in England was temperamental, but Katrina has all but waved it off making a promise that it wouldn’t like she was God’s secretary.

“You know what I think?” Kate prompts after taking another sip of her tea, “We need some time off, to unwind.”

“What do you have on mind?”

“We should go shopping.”

Katrina sends her a sideway glance.

“I’m serious!” Kate urges, the teacup in a hand and the other gesturing at herself and the lady sitting on the chair adjacent to hers. “We should go together and try to have some fun. I’m legally allowed five hours outside, and, since James is the one who does all the shopping, I haven’t really enjoyed those five hours yet.”

“I really don’t like where this is going.” Katrina says on a brittle whine, eyes facing skyward.

“Come on,” Kate coaxes, lips grinning. “If someone asks questions, just tell them I needed to buy some stuff. Besides, we can get stuff for both of us for free.”

This time, Katrina barefacedly narrows her eyes at the other. “What are we going to tell them about  _that_?”

After a pause, Kate shrugs a shoulder. “No one has to know.”

“Walter will need the receipts, though.” Katrina interjected, now drinking the rest of her tea in one large gulp.

As though summoned, the door to the room opens, but only Katrina scrambles up; if they’re here to get Kate for planning to purloin extra ten pounds from the credit card Katrina and herself are supposed to be given before going downtown, then she has a thing or two to say to that. Surprisingly, it isn’t Walter who barged in, it’s their master, who’s rolled her dress shirt’s sleeves up to her elbows, and is stomping their way with her ungloved hands at her sides, which makes for an unusual sight.

Kate returns her eyes to the mountains surrounding them, and sips her tea with a carefree demeanor that, somehow, looks perfected.

“Master” Katrina places the cup down on her empty seat, and there’s a slight clanking which suggests her fingers are trembling.

“Get out.” The said master grouches, deep and final.

Katrina, although taken aback, she seems to notice Kate snapping surprised eyes at them both. She bows, like she’s too used to their master’s crankiness, and shuffles between the furniture pieces to leave.

Kate looks up at the one across from her after hearing the click of the door being shut, “That wasn’t very nice, now, was it.”

“We need to talk.”

Rolling her eyes on an exasperated sigh, Kate places the teacup next to Katrina’s and stands up. “We always do.” She says as she makes her way inside towards her bed. “What is it this time?”

Sir Integra reels around, her eyes following Kate’s. “Professor Hailey was telling me some interesting facts.”

Kate flops on the edge of the bed with her hands on her lap. “He cracked?” She give a faux whistle, “I guess your interrogation methods are as skillful as ever” after the sex that night last week, Kate lifted up from the cocoon she was squeezed into, and stood, bare, as the halo of the half moon showed her reflection on the large glass doors of the balcony. She saw the marks on her back, the welts that scarred, and a part of her became numb again.

The master doesn’t even look offended by the comment as she thrusts her hands into the pockets of her slacks.

“He said there is a cure.”

All the whims of rebelliousness Kate might have convened to look undeterred resign as she deflates in on herself, shoulders slouched. She drops her face into her palms and lets out a groan. “No, no, not this” she said, “not this.”

“He said you know what the cure is.”

Peeking from the frame she made with her hands, Kate finds that, beyond the cantankerous conduct, there’s also hope in her master’s eyes and she hates Professor Hailey for doing this to them. She’s known this for a while now, the premonition that Sir Integra would sooner or later turn to Kate for answers, but Kate’s never really been mentally prepared. Now, she finds that she cannot stall any longer.

“Listen,” she starts, her hands dropping to her lap again, “You might be able to fix a vampire’s bite, although it isn’t always guaranteed and the person affected might not respond after all, but, there is a good fifty percent chance that they’d survive. Eighty if the cure is given soon after the bite.” Gulping, she tacks on, “However, it is different for a werewolf’s bite. I might have been successful at the day of the incident, I managed to lessen the effect of the bite but the bite itself cannot be undone.”

Sir Integra’s expression and posture haven’t changed one bit.

“If you get bitten, then that’s it for you. It’s who you are.” Kate speaks on, her voice like an echo of a wind in a haunted house. “You haven’t fully changed, but that doesn’t mean you won’t get affected by certain aspects of nature, like the pull of the full moon for example.” She said, “I don’t know if you’ve already noticed, but you have become stronger, faster and perhaps even smarter. You may not have a lust for blood, but you will feel a need to form a pack since you’re an Alpha, you will be attracted to Omegas, and you will become more and more territorial.”

This time, Sir Integra changes her posture, crossing her arms over her chest, silently.

 After a moment of silence from both parties, Kate blows out a deep sigh. “Sir,” she begins, “If there really was a cure out there, don’t you think I’d have already tried it by now. I’m sorry but matter of fact is Professor Hailey is tricking you.” Kate’s eyes squint at her master’s on another prolonged pause, “you think I’m lying, don’t you?”

“I think you are both lying,” Sir Integra replies, tone steady, “In fact, I think you are lying for the same reason.”

“What's that?” Kate challenges.

“To buy time”

Offended, Kate glares heatedly, “Professor Hailey may be lying to buy some time, but you think I'm trying to buy me time to do what, exactly?” She demands, “What am I going to get from buying time when I know that I can buy my  _ticket_  instead out of this game of yours using my magic alone!”

Just as expected, Sir Integra only stares on like she is too passive to be bothered by anything at this point, and, Hell, even Kate agrees.

“You know as well as I do that what you’re saying is nonsense.”

“You’re lying about something, that's what I know.” The master says as conclusion.

“I've told you,” Kate runs her hand across the nape of her neck to ease the fatigue away, “You have become stronger, faster and smarter, it means even your senses have become heightened” –placing a hand on her chest– “listen to my heartbeats, and you will get your answer. I’m not lying.”

Denial, that’s what this is.

Sir Integra might have been shocked at first at the turn of events, might have hollered about avenging her fate and might have even admitted to having finally accepted what she’s become, but Kate knows it’s all been done like so because that’s the  kind of courage expected of a Hellsing’s kin. The master spent years fighting those monsters until the queen herself had no choice but to praise Sir Integra on behalf of the ones in the state of ignorance for protecting their kingdom. However, now, the master can no longer pride on that privilege; she has become the thing she hunts.

Therefore, Kate knows that her master is still in denial. Honestly, there is no cure, not one that she knows of. There are two possibilities to Professor Hailey’s declaration, it’s either true and Kate must strive to find the cure, or it’s a lie because he would like a break from the torture.

In any case, it all can wait. The bite might have been screwed with a little by Kate’s blood, but it is still in effect. And, Kate, although hating the idea, she knows she still needs to inform her master of what awaits her libido.

“This isn’t going to be solved overnight, sir, how about we finish where we left off the other night?” she says instead.

Surprisingly, no angry retorts are expressed in response to that.

“My meeting will start at four, I must return to my office.”

Kate grins mischievously, “That gives us about two hours,” she hints, already pulling her clothes off, starting with the t-shirt which she tugs and tosses at the side, and then her shorts. “Come on” she tells her master who is still standing a few feet away from the bed. “We can both get our fills in two hours’ period?”

Here’s the third thing she figured from that night, Sir Integra’s sexual appetite has increased remarkably since the bite; Kate could feel it last week when they fucked; she would like to extract more from that.

As Kate works on undoing her bra, Sir Integra uncrosses her arms and saunters towards the bed, all purposeful and intent, Kate can’t help the excitement from discharging in abundance. She quickly slips the bra off and then her panties, and by the time the master is on her, Kate is perched there naked.

Leaving the button, she goes for the zipper of the slacks first, wanting to make that cock hard or else all this could be in vain. She pulls out the wilted member and immediately fists it.

Craning her neck to look up, Kate finds the master staring deeply into her eyes, and, against her better judgment, she smiles.

“If you’re going for a show of adoration, put my cock in your mouth instead.”

Kate doesn’t show or word her discontentment at the master’s wording, and, since she can hardly wait to feel her master inside her, she returns the dash of disdain with a sprinkle of banter. “Planning on it.”

Only a few prolonged licks and deep sucks later, the cock in Kate’s mouth is standing ruddy and rigid, and ready to plunder.

“Lie back.”

Pulling her mouth away with a wet pop, Kate shifts her rear and lies back, her eyes switching between the cock that’s going to go inside her and the eyes of her master staring at all of her. She is taken aback then when the master’s larger hands hold Kate by the hips and pull her towards the edge of the bed so that her rear is actually half hanging.

Sir Integra spreads Kate’s legs and kneels, her face at the level of the girl’s crotch, all in wordless effort, like they’re both on separate missions and now that Kate has finished hers, it’s her master’s turn.

Kate knows her master enjoyed the blow-job, she just doesn’t know why they both look like they shouldn’t enjoy it.

“If you’re going to do that, can you not use your fingers?” She’s been hesitant, but realized, at last, that the point of sex is to actually feel good.

“Would you be fine with just my mouth?” Although she asks that, she still places two fingers over Kate’s clits.

Hissing deeply, Kate nods. “God, yes!” But now that she thinks of it, Sir Integra’s bare hand on her skin feels ten times better than when the gloves are on.

“Which is it?”

Kate doesn’t laugh at her master’s confusion, and she uses her elbows to prop herself up. “Both. Whichever!” she grouses without heat. “I just need you to touch me.”

After so long, Kate is finally given that piece of soft pleasure when her master’s tongue fondles her clits. She relents with a small moan, eyes remaining on her master’s. She watches with gusto how Sir Integra’s head bobs up and down trailing her tongue over all of Kate’s pussy while the girl feels herself getting wetter and hotter. She shifts her upper weight to one elbow so she can have the other arm unoccupied, and then she places a hand on her master’s dark hair, petting the locks and sighing pleasurably.

Although Sir Integra’s focus is on Kate’s crotch, her right arm is busy with her erection which Kate can’t see from her angle, but can tell by the brisk movements.

“Mmm” Kate moans deeply, her neck stretching every time she tips her head to the back at the bliss she receives from every flick of her master’s tongue. “Sir…” Letting out a deep, prolonged sound that falls between a gasp and a sigh, Kate squeezes her clutch on the other’s hair a little. “You think you can go harder, I really feel like I can cum from this.” 

In response, two fingers sink into her, slow but smooth, and Kate keens, her elbow trembles under her weight and she fans on the covered mattress with her breasts bouncing.

“Oh, God, yes!” Kate whines, “Just like that.”

Sir Integra thrusts her fingers in and out like she’s stuffing a hole on the wall with water, and she has to be careful with every drop that spills, the vigorous and constant thrusting is making Kate wither, her voice trapped in her throat and her eyes shut close.

When the master finally stops, Kate breathes out and opens her eyes, pupils wandering about the ceiling, and chest heaving. “Again,” she gasps, “And don’t stop until I’ve cummed, please, sir.”

The master pulls away altogether instead, causing Kate to widen her eyes in question, and when she looks down between her parted knees, she finds said master standing up with a hand stroking her cock, and the other dragging Kate’s knee to place it over the other, making Kate pout in disagreement but still budge to lie on her side.

The cock rubs over Kate’s clits, slow and pleasing, and Kate chews on her bottom lip in preparation for what’s coming next. She feels the head of that cock nudging against Kate’s entrance, and finally slides in.

Mewling, Kate grips on the bed sheets; she knows she’ll need the anchor.

 

She doesn’t know how long they’ve been at it, but by the time Sir Integra finally braced her taut arms at each side of Kate’s head, the latter was already so spent. She looks up, finding her master’s neck hovering just over hers, she hears the small puffs of air and the low grunts. She smells the aquatic perfume and she savors up the way Sir Integra’s warmth is embracing her.

“Oh, God, you feel so good inside me.” Kate’s moans cut off her own pleasure-laden comments “Does it feel good for you too, sir?” Hearing no reply, Kate pouts up at her master’s stern-looking face again, “Talk to me, why won’t you talk to me?”

Kate’s body is still being oscillated by firm thrusts that burrow the tip of the cock deeper into her womb, and it’s so good she can’t help but sob. In her trance, she tries to prop her head up to kiss her master, wishing for some comfort from the relentless pleasure, but said master pulls away so abruptly.

Kate frowns, keeping her head propped off the bed, “Fucking is okay but kissing is off-limit?”

The momentum of the master’s thrusts starts to recede, “You offered me a hole to use, and I am; don’t expect me to coddle you.”

“That’s an awful way of putting it,” Kate huffs, “and I thought I was the one with an attitude.” Unable to crane her neck any longer, Kate’s head falls back on the mattress. She faces the other side and nibbles at her bottom lip. “Are you done –fucking me, that is?”

The pause only prolongs.

“I offered because lately you don’t stick around to finish your job, so now I’m feeling less and less excited about the idea of sex with you.” Kate says on a stoic look.

“Aside from attitude, I can see you’ve finally shown your true colors.” The master said, and elaborated on a hefty thrust of her hips that sends shots of pleasure across Kate’s arching body. “What should be enough for you; I know your legacy as a sacred whoredom presents all sorts of practices, would you be satisfied with a broomstick shoved high up to your throat?”

Rumbling with a laugh, Kate says “Oh, you must have slept on one of William A. Emboden’s books, for it to be so vivid.”

“Tell me, witch”–Kate glowers at her master for the descriptor but the latter only smirks in response– “How deviant must you be to willingly spread your legs for me after signing that contract?”

Kate mirrors the smirk with all the defiance she can summon; although the master has stopped thrusting again, Kate can still feel the hard length mould her insides. “That’s rich,” she retorts, “considering your cock is inside me despite the curse you claim was my doing.”

That definitely strikes a nerve because, next, Sir Integra is pounding into Kate, making the girl scream and beg and sob into the sheets.

 

 

 

The master pulls out, the mess of milky white fluids gushes out of Kate’s pussy, coating everything including the ass cheek lying on the bed, while the girl spasms and shudders at the loss.

As Sir Integra fixes her clothes, Kate forces herself to sit up.

“The next full moon is in less than two weeks,” she starts, and realizes just as quickly that her voice has gone husky from overuse. “What are you going to do about it?”

The other snipes “What do I need to do about it?”

Scoffing, Kate finally meets her master’s blank gaze. “You're going to go into a rut, and you don’t even have a mate yet.”

The master straightens her shirt from the collar, “the last full moon doesn't seem to agree with you.”

She has a point, the last full moon of November happened from six to eight before they worked the vampire case of Professor Hailey.

“That's because you had recently turned, it only affected your shifting.” Kate reasons, “It is different now. I can't do it because I’m not your mate, and you don't want to accidentally bind yourself to me for the rest of your life.”

“No, that I don't.” The other simply says.

“Right,” Kate blows a sigh, “What I'm saying is even though you’re half a werewolf, you still have the same traits. The full moon will affect your sex drive, which I’ve noticed has increased despite whatever venom comes out of that mouth of yours, so you need to come up with a plan, and you need to do it fast.”

 

 


End file.
